


A Hero Of Her Own

by Goudeneeuw



Category: Prince of Persia - All Media Types, Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (2010)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Future Fic, Historical, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Romance, Romantic Adventure - tagged warnings are just to be safe, Self-Discovery, Strong Female Characters, Supportive Partners, romantic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:24:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18468925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goudeneeuw/pseuds/Goudeneeuw
Summary: Dastan and Tamina began to bicker about the veil incident, she accused him of giving it a helpful tug just as the wind caught it. They were enjoying their war of words. Aryana and Miran, sitting opposite each other, listened in amusement. She noticed the ceremonial paint on her mother’s arm, smeared by her father’s affections, innocent or otherwise. She was used to their easy passion, often seeing her mother in a state of perfect raiment only to find her an hour later smudged and disarranged.Aryana gazed at Miran, golden and beautiful, and wondered what it would feel like to have him rub off her paint. She felt a slow warmth spread over her, breath becoming shallow.So this is what lust feels like.Miran felt Aryana watching him and glanced at her. What he saw on her face made him inhale sharply and drop the knife he was holding. Flustered, she looked away, struggling to put her mask back on.A story of Dastan and Tamina's daughter, the next generation of Persian Princes (the sons of Tus and Garsiv) and their wives.





	1. Alamut

Princess Aryana, the heir of Alamut, daughter of Dastan and Tamina waited patiently with her parents for the arrival of her cousin Miran, the third son of King Tus. He was on his way home after a diplomatic mission and was asked to perform a service for his uncle before returning to the capitol.

Watching him ride in through the gates, Aryana could see he was a fully grown man now, body broad and solid. Four years ago when she had last seen him, he was a seasoned soldier but still somehow seemed a boy pretending to be a man, lanky, loose-limbed with a sweet modesty. Aryana was surprised by his appearance now. He did not look like a Persian Prince at all, he looked Roman. Clean-shaven with his tawny hair cut short so that it curled over his forehead and around his ears and neck. Impressive and beautiful with nothing sweet about him.

When he came to greet them, Aryana lost herself for a moment in his dark green eyes and said the first thing that came into her head. “You are more attractive without your beard.”

Miran blinked and flushed. Dastan laughed and so did Tamina, remembering their early flirtations with each other so long ago. Aryana should have been embarrassed but wasn’t, instead feeling a smug pleasure that she could shock him into silence. He recovered quickly however.

“Then I shall surely never grow a beard again, Princess.” He said with such a charming smile that it was her turn to blush. They had completely forgotten that her parents were standing next to them. Dastan and Tamina shared a significant look.

After tea and pleasantries Dastan explained why King Tus had sent him to Alamut. “Miran, Aryana is to join the royal court and she will travel there with you as her escort.”

Miran glanced at Aryana. He had always found her a very pretty version of her beautiful mother, but now that she was grown to womanhood it almost hurt to look at her. And she had her father’s stunning blue eyes. He had seen many blue eyes on his travels for his father in the west, but Aryana’s were still the loveliest he had ever beheld. In their youth they had been betrothed but four years ago, when she was 17 and he 23, she broke it off. At the time he had been mostly relieved, but admitted to himself that he had also felt a slight sting of rejection.

At the moment her face was serene, displaying no emotion, the perfect royal mask. Only Dastan’s sympathetic smile told Miran that she was not happy with this arrangement, or perhaps she didn’t want to leave her home for such an extended visit.

“When will you be ready to travel, Princess? I had hoped to be home for my father’s birthday in 15 days time. Could we leave here within five days or is that too soon?”

She gave him a tight smile “The preparations have been made, we can depart as soon as you wish.”

“In five days then, I would enjoy a short visit with you, my Aunt and Uncle.”

“It has been a long time since you were here last, I would like to hear of your travels in the past four years. Do you enjoy your role as the King’s ambassador?” Tamina asked.

Before he could reply, Aryana interrupted “Mother, may I be excused? I have a training session” and left without receiving permission.

“She doesn’t wish to go?” Miran asked tentatively.

“Aryana will join your father’s Council to learn from him as you and your brothers do, to prepare for her own reign as monarch of Alamut. But she is not enthusiastic.”

“She will miss you, I’m sure.”

“And we her” Tamina smiled sadly at her husband. “Children grow up so quickly, it is a heartache for their parents.”

After Miran excused himself as well, Dastan asked “Are we doing the right thing, throwing them together like this? She is angry with us.”

“With me you mean,” Tamina replied dryly. “Aryana is still in love with him, or at least she thinks she is. She needs clarity and they deserve a chance to find each other.”

\---

Aryana was sparring with her father’s oldest friend Bis, her two swords flashing in the sun, moving almost too quickly to be seen. Miran knew she could fight, all the royal children could, but her skill was incredible. Bis was not really engaging with her, only offering resistance and giving encouragement. When he noticed Miran approach, Bis quickly bowed to leave; he seemed relieved to stop. Aryana gave him a glare and planted her swords hard in the chest of a practice dummy. She was angry, eyes flashing, and with her armour and beautiful sweaty face Miran thought she looked like a goddess of war.

She surveyed him solemnly for a long moment then said abruptly “Did they tell you why I must go to court?"

“Only that you are to learn kingly stratagems from my father” Miran answered carefully.

“How tactful of them” she sneered. “I am also going there to find a husband. It seems that if I wait much longer, every suitable match will assume there is something wrong with me.” She picked up a throwing knife, flipping it over and over in her hand.

“Why must I marry so young, how am I supposed to choose? I know nothing of men, I can’t make an informed decision!” She let the knife fly into the far-off target, her aim deadly accurate.

At this she deflated a little and sat down next to him. Miran was surprised at her candor, sharing her frustration with him. They hadn’t seen each other since he had paid a obligatory visit to her as his betrothed four years ago. He couldn’t remember her speaking to him much, but he had felt her observing him. He was apparently found wanting since she had ended it soon after, he recalled bitterly. The news that she was seeking a new betrothal was disturbing. He felt unexpected resentment.

Not wanting to touch on the subject of husbands, he asked instead. “Have you ever had to use your fighting skills?”

“Only once. There was a festival and I went into the city at night. When I snuck out of the palace alone I always dressed as a boy to avoid drawing attention. But three visiting lords saw through my disguise and tried to...”

Miran inhaled sharply. “Did you have to kill them?"

“Cuts from a throwing knife I carried, a few broken bones and I knocked one of them senseless. I couldn’t kill them, it would have caused diplomatic problems for my mother. But I wanted to.”

“And do you still go out by yourself at night?” he asked uneasily.

“No, my parents were livid.” She sighed and then burst out, “The life of a woman is so restrictive! I will be the ruler here, I will have power, but no liberty. My mother only has true freedom because of my father. I do not expect my fate will be such a happy one as theirs.”

“I’m surprised you’re being so open with me” Miran said bluntly. 

Actually, so was she. But she had always trusted him, so she feigned a casual “Why not? We are family, you must have heard similar complaints from your sisters.”

Her apparently complete indifference irked him. He had thought he had seen something in her eyes when he arrived that morning. A wary awareness or attraction. He had certainly felt drawn to her. She was so lovely and the knowledge that she once all but belonged to him ate into his mind. Something inside him was determined that she would never look on him as a brother.

“But we are not brother and sister are we?” And he kissed her.

As soon as his lips touched hers, she gasped and shivered. He held her with only a hand cupping her face as he traced her lips lightly with his tongue. She moaned into his mouth, melting against him, pushing her fingers into his hair. Her passionate response was immediate, he felt himself harden and was so astonished he pulled away. They stared at each other, both breathing hard.

“You...you have no right to kiss me.” Her tone was controlled, her eyes steady, but her body shook and she was blushing. Her first kiss - with the boy, now man, she had chosen for herself so long ago. And now it would never be him, she had let him go, to spare him a miserable life. _How dare he play with me!_

“I apologize, Princess. I was overcome by your beauty.” With an effort he twisted his mouth into a teasing smirk, attempting to make light of it. Then seriously, “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Aryana frowned slightly, more taken aback by her wanton reaction to him than the kiss itself. “It’s alright, Cousin. I was just… startled.” She looked at him, still somewhat dazed, while she searched for an excuse to get away. “I need to clean up” she finally said and abruptly turned to go.

As he watched her walk away he had to admit, thinking of Aryana with another man made something twist painfully inside him.

\---

That night at dinner Aryana sat quietly, listening to the conversation, thinking of the journey she must endure with Miran. Perhaps she could take advantage of his escort to gain a bit of freedom for herself, to have an adventure.

As their talk stilled for a moment, “Father, may we travel through the Valley of the Slaves?”

Dastan paused to give Tamina a chance to object, but he didn’t think she would.

“Yes, alright. Only you and Miran may enter though, the rest of your party must go around.”

She glanced at her mother. She shouldn’t be surprised at this ready permission even though Aryana had never been to the valley before. Finally understanding that Tamina was sending her on a voyage of discovery, Aryana smiled gratefully at her.

“The Valley of the Slaves is passable?" Miran asked. "I thought going in there was certain death.”

“We have an agreement with their leader. Alamut and Persia may send messengers through and Tus, Garsiv, Tamina and I may visit, in exchange for being ignored by Persia and her tax collectors. But it is time the new generation should become acquainted. I have found it an invaluable place for picking up information, so we also post men to hang around with their eyes and ears open. Sheik Amar tolerates this as long as they spend plenty of money."

“And Aryana,” Dastan continued, “you must also promise to cover yourself properly. Amar will never forgive me if you start another riot like your mother did.” Dastan laughed, kissing Tamina’s hand at the memory. And it was a recent memory, just last year. During a race, her veil had blown off in the wind, causing pandemonium. Two ostrich riders stopped in the middle of the track to stare at her, making the race forfeit, setting off the riot which continued into the night.

“But I won’t say more, it will spoil the surprise.”

Dastan and Tamina began to bicker about the veil incident, she accused him of giving it a helpful tug just as the wind caught it. They were enjoying their war of words. Aryana and Miran, sitting opposite each other, listened in amusement. She noticed the ceremonial paint on her mother’s arm, smeared by her father’s affections, innocent or otherwise. She was used to their easy passion, often seeing her mother in a state of perfect raiment only to find her an hour later smudged and disarranged.

Aryana gazed at Miran, golden and beautiful, and wondered what it would feel like to have him rub off her paint. She felt a slow warmth spread over her, breath becoming shallow. _So this is what lust feels like._

Miran felt Aryana watching him and glanced at her. What he saw on her face made him inhale sharply and drop the knife he was holding. Flustered, she looked away, struggling to put her mask back on.

\---

Miran and Dastan had spent an enjoyable morning together, laughing at some story about Garsiv and his horse, to see Tamina and Aryana in the distance talking quietly together in the water garden below them. The two women were so similar, of a height with their dark heads bent slightly as they talked, holding hands. _They are so alike, but so different_ , Dastan thought.

He decided to give his nephew some advice, “I don’t know why she ended your betrothal, but she is very like her mother, she always has a reason for everything she does and that reason probably will not be what you expect. You should ask her.”

Almost to himself he continued, “My princess carried her burdens from a young age, until her mask had become a part of her. I had to fight with everything I had to earn her trust. It was a battle, a battle for my very life, the life I wanted with her. Aryana can wear those masks, but does not have walls to protect herself."

He looked at Miran. “Do not hurt her if you can avoid it.”

Tamina was telling her daughter, “I have asked Zolm not to go with you to Nasaf. My reason is his own safety and if he realizes he may disobey me.” Aryana nodded her understanding.

“Mother, I am sorry I have behaved like such a child.”

Tamina squeezed her hand. “The idea of husband hunting was more for Miran’s benefit than yours, to focus his mind, although the king is not against the idea of a useful alliance being made with some other prince. Tus will play his part, but won’t make any real demand of you. Remember, as the High Priestess and her heir, our destiny will always find us. No matter how confused or lost you feel, your path will eventually become clear to you. Take comfort in that.”

“I thought I was at peace with my decision to release him. But now… it’s not what I expected, seeing him again, it’s more real. I am afraid to risk my heart.” she confessed.

“Yes I know, dear one, for us it will always be all or nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Zolm is in Tamina's service. The explanation of how this came about will be in the last chapter.


	2. All or Nothing

In the pre-dawn of their departure, Aryana stood with her parents by the palace gate waiting for her horse to be brought to her. Tamina caressed her daughters cheek sadly and Dastan stroked her hair but they did not speak. As Miran approached them he had to pause, not willing to intrude on the poignant, private moment between them. But Aryana saw him with her mare and her back stiffened, the mask coming back on. The three of them remained holding hands until Dastan gave a last squeeze and with a determined cheerfulness helped Aryana mount her horse. She rode away, not daring to look back, holding her tears at bay.

They joined Miran’s people who were already assembled outside the city and he saw her emotion was back under control. “No one accompanies you Princess?”

“I am tired of being 'The Princess', I want to be just Aryana for awhile.”

As they rode, the sun came up and she kept her mount apart from the others, sometimes stopping to observe the sky, or how the wind made ripples in the sand or a lizard running for shelter. Marin watched her, wondering what she was thinking, so solemn and alone. But Aryana was not lonely. She loved the desert and tried to experience it to the utmost, to absorb the sights and sensations in order to recall them later when she must remain in her city.  She felt Miran’s eyes on her but assumed he was just carrying out his responsibility.

There were established resting places on the imperial road. Places with water and shade, a wild oasis or a small village. In the afternoon heat of the first day, they rested at a small farm and bought fresh milk and dried meat from the mistress and slept for a time in an outbuilding. That night, before utter darkness, they stopped at a grassy spot created by the bend of a river. Some of his people had ridden ahead through the heat of the day to prepare the encampment so a meal was ready when they arrived. Aryana entered the lavish tent that was erected for her use and sighed. It was meant to be as near to a real bedchamber as possible, a large bed, carpets, chairs and even a mirror. It was depressing.

“Are you comfortable, Princess?” Miran asked when he came to check on her.

His stiff formality was getting on her nerves. “Yes, of course...Prince,” her tone slightly mocking.

But as he was leaving she changed her mind. “No, I am not. I give you fair warning, I am about to be tiresome.” He turned back to her, hands on hips, waiting. “I want to sleep under the stars.”

Miran gave her a long considering look. “I will have to sleep near you.”

“Why must it be you?” she burst out. But before he could answer, “Oh all right,” peevishly, “I’m in your care. I know, I know.”

“Have your meal and I will prepare your bed.” he said with a small bow, an unspoken ‘I am at your service no matter how much you inconvenience everyone.’

Miran had chosen a sandy place surrounded by tufts of long grass and reeds that were nourished by the river which gurgled pleasantly close by. The main camp was some way off and she was pleased that he had arranged for the illusion of isolation. He would sleep next to her though and it suddenly felt too intimate. She forced herself to lay quietly on the bedroll, looking at the infinity of stars above her, listening to the river and night noises she could not name. Aryana thought she would sleep easily, but his nearness was unsettling and she turned over, trying to ease her tension.

“Are you cold?” Miran asked softly into the darkness, his low voice making her shiver pleasantly. She uttered a small negative noise. “The sky is beautiful tonight. Do you see the pole star? And there you can see the red planet of war.”

She followed the shadow of his arm against the bright starry sky to where he pointed. “Can you navigate using the stars?”

“Yes, I carry instruments with me and a book with the movement of the zodiac and cycles of the moon. Had I not been a prince, I would have chosen to study astronomy.”

“Star-telling was not considered that important for my education, but my father taught me a little. I don’t think I could find my way through the wild though.”

“If ever we journey in the desert together again, I will show you.” And then abruptly he asked the question that had been gnawing at the back of his mind since he was told to go to Alamut.

“Why did you end our betrothal?”

She inhaled sharply in surprise. Her initial instinct was to deflect his question but it was perhaps easier to talk to him in the dark so she decided to answer truthfully.

“You probably don’t know this, I was trained from a young age to think for myself and the betrothal was entirely my own idea. When I was 12, I decided I wanted to marry you because you were my favorite prince, you were kind to me and always made me smile. The family agreed reluctantly, my mother out of principle, my father and uncles because they liked the idea, even though we were so young. We are cousins, but not related by blood so it made sense. When I was 14,  I thought you the most handsome man I had ever seen, but you resented being tied to me and broke my infatuated heart. At 17, you had just returned from battle, full of stories of your experiences far from home and I realized more fully why I had chosen you. You reminded me of my father who was just the same, traveling over the Empire getting into one scrape after another, loving that adventurous life.”

Aryana paused, reluctant to reveal the rest, feeling exposed. “The only reason he is happy in Alamut, a tiny kingdom in the middle of nowhere, is because he loves my mother with all his heart. If we had married, you would be stuck in an insignificant city, taking no part in the guardianship of your empire, your loyalty divided. I couldn’t make your life a misery, I liked you after all. So I ended it.”  

Her answer was not what Miran had expected, to release him for the sake of his happiness, not her own. After a moment he said quietly, “There has been no talk of a marriage for me. I think our family still hope for a match between us.”

“Yes, I guessed as much, as they all conspired for us to spend this time together. That is why I was so angry with them. Being manipulated, it felt like a trap. At least you are aware of it now.”

“Do you still hope for love?” he murmured into the darkness.

“No, of course not, it is very unlikely" her voice sounding sharper than she had hoped. "I can ignore my consort as long as he does not repulse me physically since I must do my duty in that regard. And if I could enjoy him a little, that would be pleasant. When I have an heir, he could even go back to where he came from with my blessing.”

Miran was finding it difficult to comprehend what she was telling him. “So you want an indifferent but attractive prince for the sole purpose of producing an heir. Or you want me to love you.” After a pause, afraid to ask, “Do you love me?”

Aryana squirmed under the weight of his question but forced herself to answer. “I don’t know, I was sure I loved you when I was younger. But we have both changed so much.”

She felt herself flush because this was not entirely true. She had loved a romantic idea of Miran but the real man laying next to her under a starry sky was not a disappointment at all. Even though she wanted to be honest, she still felt the need to protect herself. And since they were having a such a frank conversation, Aryana knew it was only fair to warn him, as well as she could without betraying Alamut’s secrets.

“And loving me is not the most important requirement. By agreeing to a true marriage, you would be making a grave commitment. To become my partner, not just my consort. You would shoulder a heavy responsibility that I can’t explain to you unless you choose to join me in Alamut. It would be a leap of faith, which is great deal to ask of you.”

Miran lay awake thinking about what she had told him. All or nothing. He was wary of such an all-consuming love but, to his surprise, he wondered if it was already too late to avoid it. And Aryana lay awake wondering if she had told him too much.

\---

The next day they rode together but did not speak often. Miran had always respected the desert, for him it was a place of danger, or adventure, or tedium and discomfort. And when she would stop to observe something, often he did not see what had drawn her attention until she pointed it out. Miran began to look at the desert through her eyes, the small details of wonder and beauty. At midday, they stopped at a wild oasis and Aryana rested under a palm tree next to a small pool of water, watching birds fly down to bathe and drink.

“Princess, do you care for something to eat?” Miran offered as he sat next to her.

“Will you stop using my title when we are alone? I don’t enjoy the constant reminder of my shackles” she snapped rather bitterly.

“Yes of course, if you wish it… Aryana.” After a somewhat awkward silence Miran confessed. “I like it too when I can shed the mantle of Prince.”

This made Aryana curious. “What do you do for your father exactly, your appearance implies a certain duplicity.”

“I am his ambassador… and I also help manage our network of spies with Uncle Garsiv.”

“Which you take an active part in” she guessed.

“Sometimes. I was in Constantinople to expand our presence there. The eastern empire is weak but there are signs they will try to spread their influence again.”

“Thus, your convincing disguise. But it suits you.”

“So you told me. Shaving is an annoyance but I like the short hair. Shall I keep it?” he asked boldly.

Without conscious thought Aryana reached out and twisted a lock of his hair around her finger, her face softening with pleasure. Miran exhaled slowly, stirred by her unexpected touch. But when she realized what she was doing Aryana blushed and got up, walking to the other side of the pool to regain her composure, concentrating on the birds again.

She stood so still, Miran thought she waited for something.  Then a small songbird alighted on her shoulder, regarding her curiously. Aryana slowly lifted her hand to it and the little bird accepted her invitation, hopping to the finger she held out. She carried it closer to her face and they considered each other for a long while, before the bird grew bored and flew away. Aryana looked at Miran, watching her from across the pool, and laughed with joy.

They slept under the stars again that night, both feeling a comforting companionship. The moon shone brightly and they rested facing each other, but with a respectable distance between them. Miran lay with his eyes closed, so she had the freedom to stare at him openly, memorizing his features. His eyes opened suddenly, dark and unreadable in the moonlight. Her heart lurched a little, but she didn’t look away.

“I can feel when your eyes are on me.”

Not wanting to admit she was ogling him like a lovesick girl she confessed instead, “I wish we could stay longer in the desert.”

“So do I.”


	3. Valley of the Slaves

The next day they entered The Valley of the Slaves, sending the 20 or so soldiers, staff and servants on without them. They waited for he didn’t know what, surrounded by human bones hanging from poles, clattering in the breeze. Miran was intrigued, he loved this humming anticipation he felt when a new adventure was beginning.

“You have not been here before?”

“No, it is not the sort of place to bring children. My parents come here a few times a year, my father more often when my mother and I have duties to perform for the priesthood that take many days.”

Miran had forgotten Tamina’s title of High Priestess. “Your role of Priestess is an important one then?”

“More important than Crown Princess, yes.”

“I don’t see you pray” he commented, keeping his tone neutral.

“The Gods do not require personal devotion from us, only obedience and constant vigilance.”

He was going to ask her more about the religion of Alamut, but in the distance a man appeared. A giant of a man, a dark African with tribal tattoos and knives strapped to his body. Miran tensed, preparing for the possibility of combat, but Aryana walked calmly to meet him. She was wearing a loose, hooded cloak and veil, but revealed herself to the man as he approached.

“Ah, child of destiny. You must be Aryana, daughter of Dastan and his lady.”

“Seso, I am pleased to meet you. This is Miran, third son of Persia. We are here to make the acquaintance of you and Sheik Amar. And to watch the races of course.”

Seso gave a brief but respectful nod to Miran and smiled down at Aryana. “He comes now.” A  disheveled, disreputable looking man was approaching them.

“So Seso, who have we here? Look at those eyes, has to be Dastan’s doesn’t she. You’re just as stunning as your mother” Sheik Amar said grimly. It was not a compliment.

Aryana couldn’t help smiling at him and he complained, “Don’t grin at me girl, you hurt my eyes.”

“I am very pleased to meet you finally, sir. My parents send their warm greetings to you.”

_What an extraordinary man,_ Miran thought. The utter dispect of his words was belied by an obvious affection for Dastan and his family which was returned to him with the utmost courtesy.

“And you, young man, must be from one his brothers. Although you look more like a Roman god than a Persian.” Aryana coughed to hide her snort of laughter.

Miran shot her an aggrieved look. “King Tus is my father sir, it is an honor to meet you” following Aryana’s polite lead.

“Is Zolm here?” she asked.

“Yes, he slithered in this morning. Knew to expect visitors, but thought to see your parents. They aren’t planning to retire are they?” Meaning, are they alright.

“No, they are well” she assured him with a smile, “but my life is in preparation for that day and you never know when the Gods will take them.”

The Sheik shivered dramatically, “Just like your mother too, giving me chills on a hot sunny day.”

They remounted their horses and rode with the Sheik and Seso deeper into the valley, after some time arriving at a nondescript cave that joined man-made passages. They saw first stables, where they left their horses, storage areas and a solid looking gate. The underground complex was a hive of activity. It seemed there were hundreds of people down there, some moving purposefully, others playing games of chance and quite a few that were drunk. They followed Amar out into the daylight again, finding themselves next to a large but decrepit arena, a makeshift market square, and tents as far as they could see. There were also a few solid structures, a guardhouse, an inn and a gambling den judging by the noise flowing outside. The inhabitants and visitors were mostly men but a few women could be seen, a market seller, a washer woman and Aryana recognised an ostrich girl which made her smile. The people were cosmopolitan; it was clear from the many languages floating in the air and their differing appearance that they came from all over the known world. _A perfect place for a spy_ Miran thought with a smile.

“The races begin in one hour. You,” he pointed at Aryana, “may gamble unless you continually pick the winners like Her Highness always does” Sheik Amar grumbled.

Seso brought them to the one-room stone house of her parent’s at the edge of Amar’s bustling town. It was simple but comfortable, two sets of armour were set ready for use, some of her mother’s clothes and an enormous bed.

“I feel like we are invading their privacy” Aryana said ruefully.

Wine and food had been set out for them and Miran lounged on the bed watching Aryana wash her face and hands. She was so beautiful and her ablutions were seductive, whether she meant them to be or not. He began to imagine her slowly undressing to wash the rest of her body, looking into his eyes as she ran her hands over her breasts and lower still, touching herself to please him.

“Who is Zolm?” he asked somewhat sharply to distract himself.

“My mother’s unofficial bodyguard, and mine too I suppose. You must promise not to attack him, he would kill you without a second thought.” She paused,  “Actually it might be better if you do not see him at all. Zolm is considered to be an enemy of the Persian Empire. Knowing of his existence could put you in a difficult position with the king.”

But before she could decide, Zolm appeared before them. Hassansin! Miran’s mind screamed danger and he stood up in alarm. But as with Seso, Aryana causally turned to greet him. Miran had a knife concealed in his hand, but was sure the Hassansin knew it.

His expression was cold and blank with those pale eyes as he looked down at Aryana. “You will be long away from home I hear.”

“My mother asked me to remind you of your promise not to follow.” His lips twisted into a ghost of a smile. There was a slight movement under his cloak, making Miran tense. Slowly a viper slunk out from Zolm’s sleeve, it’s tongue feeling for Aryana. She glanced at Miran, knowing he would act to protect her and shook her head once. The serpent reached out and Aryana held out her hand to let it twist around her arm.

“She has grown since last I saw her.”

“Almost time for her to return to the desert, to live her own life.” Zolm replied, gazing solemnly at Aryana and she gave him a wistful smile as the snake returned to slide up his arm again.

He looked directly at Miran for the first time. “He is the one you had chosen?” Aryana gave an embarrassed nod. “You still want him.” A noncommittal shrug.

“Is he as soft as your father?” Zolm asked with a sneer.

“Yes.”

“Then I will leave you in his care.” And he was gone.

“That monster looked at you with... well, it looked like affection.”

“He is prickly, but he will smile at me occasionally.” She said with a chuckle, “It is my life’s ambition to make him laugh.” So she told him her favorite Zolm story.

“When I was three years of age we were travelling to a place in the mountains.” She omitted that the place was the Guardian Temple. “The river next to the track swelled and there was a sudden inundation. I was carried away from everyone by the water. Don’t ask me how I did not drown, the Gods must have protected me. Zolm was the one who found me, several miles downstream. I don’t remember any of this except for his face. My earliest memory is not of my mother or father, my home or my favorite cat - it is the face of that Hassansin. My father told me later, when Zolm carried me to them I cried inconsolably when he let me go.”

_Gods Below_ , he thought, _her champion, her lifelong protector is a mythical killer_. Miran took her hand, his fingers twisting one of the rings she wore, a ring in the form of a serpent, with eyes of lapis. “You wear this for him, don’t you?”

“That incident with the three depraved lords - Zolm was there, but he let me fight them on my own. He gave the ring to me afterward. It reminds me that my Hassansin knows I can take care of myself, even though I am never allowed to do so.”

Miran felt he had entered a world of fairy tales, magic and dark powers. ‘Child of destiny’ Seso had called her. He opened her hand in his, thumb rubbing over her Guardian tattoo and wondered what it meant. “You did not have this when I saw you last.”

But she ignored his implied question. “Shall we go watch the races?” as she pulled her hand out of his grasp.

She went to look among her mother’s garments and found mostly sensible clothes for desert travel. But there were a few dresses in rich colors that Tamina would never wear in Alamut. One dress in particular was the deep blue color of her own eyes and Aryana held it up, longing to wear it. With a sigh she put it away again and found a full veil to wear instead. It showed none of her face or hair, only her eyes, beads falling over her forehead.

“Your eyes could still start a riot” Miran warned teasingly, earning a glare. “I’m serious!” he laughed as he pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.

When they arrived at the makeshift arena, joining Sheik Amar on his viewing platform, Miran was astonished. Ostriches, he never would have expected that. Amar was telling them of his favorites, how the birds were feeling that day, worrying about one who had eaten something that disagreed with her. And a memory came to him of when his father was made king.  

“Sir, I think we met when I was a boy at my father’s coronation.”

“Yes, yes I was there. It was a good party. I do remember you and your brothers and all those little princesses.” And to Aryana, “Dastan made me hold you, you pulled the feather from my turban and laughed in my face.” Amar tried to sound accusing, but couldn’t help smiling at the memory.

“You gave my father a present of three ostriches.” Miran realized now what a generous gift it was; this man loves his birds. “A lavish gift. We children enjoyed them enormously.” Seeing the sheik’s darkening expression, he added quickly “We were not allowed to play with them.”

“One bird is a lavish gift but they need the company of their own kind or they pine away from loneliness so I had to give three.”

Miran could tell Amar wanted to know how they fared, but was afraid to ask. “My father has a large villa outside the city. It was a hunting estate, but he decided to make it a safe home for your ostriches and the other creatures that have been given to him. I believe there is a family of at least 50 living there now.”

Sheik Amar was moved, tears appeared in his eyes and he couldn’t speak for a moment.

The races went on the whole day. Aryana was especially interested in the ostrich girls, imagining Tamina as one of them.  She wished she could tell Miran the story. And she would tell him of the dress her mother wore sometimes which always made Dastan laugh and chase has wife around the room. Aryana had just now gotten the joke.

After watching the first races, Aryana could indeed tell which ones would win. It had to do with the center of balance between the birds and their riders. Now and then she would whisper her choice to Miran so he could bet on her behalf. But the sheik quickly caught on.

“No, No, No! Keep your opinions to yourself.”

“I will Sheik, if you let me ride one” she dared to ask. He was intrigued enough to agree. “The Persian is too big but you can try tomorrow.” Miran was very glad he was prohibited.

\---

They stood leaning in the door of the little house, watching the sun set over the desert. Aryana gazed at the man beside her; he had given her so much on their journey, she wondered if he even realized it. The low sun turned his hair to liquid gold and his mossy green eyes lightened in the sunlight, shining like emeralds. She knew desire shimmered on her face but didn’t turn away this time when he looked at her.

“I have no right to kiss you” he murmured.

“Except by invitation.” And he smiled and slowly pushed her against the stone wall, pinning her body with his, hands gently cupping her face to hold her still for his kiss. Miran nibbled on her lower lip and she opened her mouth with a sigh. He shifted to make room for his hands to move from her neck to her breasts, moaning darkly as he felt their soft fullness in his palms.

Aryana was overwhelmed by him, his scent, his taste, his strength. And when he cupped her breasts, brushing her nipples with his thumbs, her legs threatened to give way. Miran held her hips to steady her, pulling her in to grind against his erection. When she felt his hardness she stiffened involuntarily.

Miran raised his head to look at her wary face in surprise. _She is thoroughly sensual but utterly chaste,_ he realized.

“Is this your second kiss Aryana?” he asked unsteadily.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He leant his forehead against hers, trying to ignore her luscious, swollen lips and focused on regaining control over himself.

Letting her go he said “You should prepare for bed now. I will give you some privacy.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“On the floor of course, at your feet” and he left her to get a stiff drink.

As she lay in the huge bed trying to sleep, Aryana thought about her passionate responses to Miran. He had only to touch her and she lost her senses. She asked herself a basic question: _Is it me or is it him?_

\---

Before dawn the next morning, Aryana woke to see Seso waiting outside their open door.

“There are still wild places in the valley. Would you like to see?”

Aryana nodded in anticipation and went to dress quickly. Miran was rising stiffly from the floor, he must have slept in his clothes. He looked tired and irritated.

“You don’t have to come with us, I will be safe with Seso.”

“And if I want to?” Miran grumbled and she shrugged.

“I have food and your horses with me. We will ride a short way and choose a place to sit quietly and watch the world come awake.”

They came to a secluded rocky side canyon, green with grass and bushy trees. Seso had them leave their horses sheltering under a tree and led them on a short climb to a rocky outcrop with a sweeping view. The settled themselves against the rockface behind them and ate while they watched the sun rise.

When the sunlight hit the rocks on the opposite side of the canyon, Aryana noticed movement and unexpectedly a male lion came out of a cave to stretch languidly. Following him trotted many yearlings and cubs, gamboling around, playing with each other. Miran gripped Aryana hand, nodding to where three lionesses were approaching. They looked up at the ledge where they sat, but seemed unconcerned by their presence, Seso must come here often to watch them. When the lionesses reached the others there were many rubbed greetings and the cubs were licked clean by their mothers. After a long session of family grooming, the lions left their den together.

“They go to eat what the lionesses caught for the family last night” Seso said quietly.

“They behave like our pets” Miran said in amazement. “I never realized we live with small lions. Thank you for sharing this with us Seso”

“I will now show you a natural wonder.”

They walked deeper into the canyon, the rocky walls closing in on them, until they came to a bubbling pool which held the colors of a rainbow in it - mostly red-orange and yellow with a deep blue center. Aryana moved forward but Seso stopped her.

“It is hot and dangerous” he warned. In the full sun it was difficult to see, but steam was indeed rising from the pool. “There is another over there with different colors” and they went to admire that one as well, orange with streaks of an otherworldly bright yellowy-green shade which she had never seen before.

Miran experienced again that unsettling feeling of falling into a world of dreams and took Aryana’s hand. “Astonishing.”

“We should depart before the lions return” Seso said quietly, “on foot we become their prey.” And reluctantly they left the canyon the way they had come.

After Seso brought them back and received their heartfelt gratitude, Aryana felt a mournful melancholy wash over her. She longed to travel the world and experience other marvels like they had seen today. Never before had her duty felt like such a stone around her neck, crushing her. Slow, hot tears fell from her eyes and she turned away from Miran so he wouldn’t see.

But he did of course and was troubled. Miran took her in his arms and commanded “Tell me.”

“I should be uplifted by the wonder of creation Seso showed us, but instead I feel trapped and desperate. My life is not my own because my mother and I live with a burden no one else can bear.”

Miran didn’t know what he could say to comfort her, holding her tightly and thinking _she deserves someone to carry it with her, to show her every day that she is not alone._

Aryana wiped her eyes with determination. “I don’t like indulging in self-pity, no good will come of it.” She pushed away from him, making an effort at cheerfulness. “Shall we see if trying to ride an ostrich will improve my mood?”

In the arena Sheik Amar took her to a bird that was standing quietly with a cover over its head. “The idea is to sit under her wings and hold onto them at the shoulders. Don’t lean back too far or you’ll fall off.”

Aryana did as instructed, the birds feathers were wonderfully soft but the body felt thinner than she expected. When she was settled, Amar pulled the hood off and the ostrich exploded into a run. Aryana found herself sliding backwards to fall on her bottom in the sand. It took a moment to catch the bird again and she had to endure Miran’s teasing laughter. Knowing what to expect, the second time she managed to stay seated until the bird made a sharp turn into the arena wall, knocking her off sideways into an undignified heap. The fall must have looked bad because Miran wasn’t laughing now, running over to help her to her feet.

“Third time’s a charm.” she muttered. And she did maintain her seat longer that time and when she felt her balance fail, she managed to slide off the bird somewhat gracefully and kept her footing. Her next attempts went better and better until she found a perfect balance between her and the ostrich and she made a few circuits of the arena at speed, Miran shouting encouragement as she flew past.

Sheik Amar was actually impressed. He told Miran “She picked it up faster than most of the oafs I get to ride them.” And to Aryana “If you ever get tired of being a princess, you can always be one of my jockey’s. I’ll even give you a percentage of your bird’s winnings” he offered.

“You know Sheik” she answered seriously, “I may take you up on that when I visit you again. I’ll want a 40 percent cut” and he gleefully smiled in anticipation of a lovely betting opportunity.

It took her awhile to clean herself of sand and feathers, there being no proper bath house in Amar’s town. And as they were walking to the inn for the evening meal, Miran pulled several bits of ostrich fluff from her hair with a grin.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” the Sheik asked Aryana bluntly when they joined him. “You could make an effort, it would be good for business.”

“My father warned me not to cause trouble.”

“Oh, that’s only during races. If you start a riot now, it will all be in good fun.”

So they walked back for Aryana to change into the alluring blue dress she had been longing to wear. It was a loose sheath, sleeveless with a low round neckline, gathered tightly around her body by a wide band of silver links that sat just under her breasts, pushing them up into a deep decollete. Miran was waiting for her outside and his breath caught when he saw her.

“You are lovely” he told her softly in admiration.

Aryana looked down at herself doubtfully, “This is the most revealing garment I have ever worn. Are you sure it’s not too outrageous?”

“Here, put on your cloak until you feel more comfortable” draping it over her shoulders and giving her his arm.

Wine was offered to them but Aryana had something else in mind. “My mother told me the fermented goat’s milk is the most vile thing she’s ever tasted. I would like to try it.” When it was brought to her, she drank one sip and put a hand over her mouth to keep herself from spitting it out. “Disgusting!” and she drank the rest.

“I can’t really imagine Aunt Tamina here, she is too dignified.”

“She enjoys seeing my father in his natural element. And she also enjoys doing things that shock him which is easier to accomplish here than in Alamut.”

“Yes” Amar reminisced, “she once drank a man under the table just to prove her superior self-control. Looked like death warmed over the next day, but she said it was worth it to see the look on Dastan’s face. Scary she is, said she did it using meditation, whatever that is.”

Laughing at the thought of it, “That would work” Aryana agreed.

“No ideas now Princess, we must leave tomorrow” Miran warned.

“Now then, who is here tonight.” The sheik pointed to a man playing dice in the corner of the room. “That man is Greek, he has been here for two months and speaks to everyone. And him over there is one of Koshkahn’s spies, he talks often with a Roman from Constantinople, but that man isn’t here at the moment. That girl there, pointing at an ostrich maiden, works for the Turks, but she is good at her job so I let her stay. And Dastan’s two left yesterday.”

He was giving Miran invaluable information. Because the king valued and cared for something this man loved, Sheik Amar was no longer a neutral player, he was firmly on Persia’s side now.

“That boy is a newcomer, he brought wine to trade, don’t know if he is someone to watch yet.” Aryana was observing the young man as well. Dark hair and eyes, and a very handsome face. He had three ostrich maidens vying for his attention and was giving them each what they seemed to want from him, bold carrasses and deep kisses.

Aryana stood up, glancing over her shoulder at Miran, “Don’t interfere” she commanded. She removed her cloak to show the beautiful but revealing blue dress underneath and walked to the young trader’s table, stood gazing at him before turning to lean against the wall in a far corner. The man followed her immediately, spoke to her and smiled charmingly. Aryana rubbed his bottom lip with her thumb and he kissed her, moving his hands freely over her body. And then she looked directly into Miran’s furious eyes. Aryana languidly moved away from the other man, but he held her wrist to pull her back. She said a few words and he let her go with a wry smile.

Miran couldn’t believe what she had done. It shocked him. It infuriated him. It aroused him. A volatile mixture of emotion that he could barely contain. And when she looked into his eyes as she was being pawed by another man, _Gods help him_ , he wanted to drag her away and ...

Returning to their table, a serene expression on her face, Aryana sat down as if the whole thing had never happened.

Amar was flabbergasted. All he could think to say was “What did you tell him to make him release you?”

“That I belong to him,” indicating Miran, “and he allows me to play sometimes, but I am not permitted more since it would lower my worth.”

“Ha!” Amar barked a laughed, “aren’t you a clever girl.”

Aryana glanced at Miran who sat with clenched hands and a stony face. “I believe we are about to have an argument. Shall we retire, Prince?”

He stalked back to their little house, trying to control his temper. “What kind of game were you playing? Making me jealous at the price of your own safety, I might have had to kill him!” He spat through gritted teeth, glad he was not shouting.

Again she was incensed over her position as a woman. Men could go around kissing anyone they pleased. And Miran assumed her only thought was to incite his jealousy.

“I wanted to see how  disagreeable you can be when you’re angry.” she sneered sarcastically, but then shrugged and told him the real reason. “It was an experiment. I wanted to see if I would be as easily aroused by another man. It is reasonable to want to know such things about myself.”

“And were you?” he snarled.

She was silent for so long he was sure she wouldn’t answer. But finally he heard a quiet “No.”

Miran felt his anger slip away. He understood finally what she had meant, saying her mother’s freedom depended on her father. He was doing the same for Aryana now as she ran to catch hold of new experiences before her life became confined once more.  She was exploring the world and herself, something she had every right to do. What would it be like to guide her in exploring her sensuality as well. He knew the idea was not altruistic, he burned for Aryana and would use any excuse to touch her. But he would be honest with her as well, even if it diminished his own worth in that regard.

“Your lack of passion with that boy is not a conclusive answer to your question. Both men and women can feel impersonal lust that, with a bit of effort, can bring them to orgasm. Do you know what that is?” Embarrassed nod. “The body is easily manipulated. It is also possible to bring yourself to orgasm.” Surprised blush. “Men are quickly aroused and readily satisfied. Women are more complex in their desire. During sex a man’s purpose, assuming he wants to please his partner, is stimulation and self-control.”

“Your description sounds rather cold.”

“Well making love is supposed to take sex to a higher plane, a pleasure so great it feels like a sacred bond. But I wouldn’t know about that, not having experienced it.” _Yet_ , he thought.

He considered her for a long moment wondering what her reaction would be to an outrageous offer. “If you want, I can show you the places most women find arousing.”

A shocking idea, but she was curious and she trusted Miran. Most of all though, Aryana wanted it to be him, the first man to kiss her, her first and only man. At her shy nod, he led her to the bed and began to undress her carefully. Selfishly, he wanted her completely naked before him, undoing the wide silver belt and slowly lowering the blue sheath over her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as she shivered under his hands. Miran took indecent pleasure in looking at her, skin like alabaster, graceful neck and full breasts with a beautiful tilt to her nipples. He brushed fingers lightly over her cheek to her brow, sweeping a thumb over her lower lip, and her mouth opened with a soft sigh.

Aryana reached to help him undress, yearning to touch him, but he held her hands still. “I will remain fully clothed to prevent the lesson getting out of control.” _And I won’t use my mouth on her_ , he told himself, even though he badly wanted to.

He took her hand and pulled her to lie next to him on the bed. Miran explored her body with careful deliberation, a hand moving slowly down her neck to her shoulder, tracing her collarbone, pausing to feel the beating of her heart. Sweeping lower to circle a breast before cupping it firmly, squeezing gently, thumb rubbing over a nipple. Aryana gasped in reaction, confused by the sensation. His hand at her breast but also a sudden sweet ache and wetness at the juncture of her thighs.

“Caress your breast like I am doing, try pinching your nipple, see if you enjoy that.”

Each of them was on a breast, a squeeze, a tug, the heat building all over her body and she felt herself losing her inhibitions, arching her back, wanting more. His hand travelled down again, over her belly, moving in slow circles, over her hip, to her thigh, moving forever inwards, memorizing the places she whimpered and gasped. His hand felt so large, so rough and warm on her body, the difference with the cool room heightening her sensitivity.

He touched her mound, parting her folds gently, feeling her wet heat. Yes, this is what she ached for, her hips jerked upwards, pushing against his hand, needing more but not knowing what. He found the bud with his thumb, the center of her pleasure, and she cried out.

“Make your fingers wet and touch yourself here” he commanded even though he could barely speak, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Move in circles, play with the pressure and speed of your fingers.” And she obeyed.

Pleasuring herself, she spread her legs wide in mindless craving and he pushed a finger gently but firmly into her tight wetness. Aryana climaxed, shuddering with the force of it, gasping his name in surprise.

Miran watched, enthralled, as her first sexual rapture took her. She looked untamed and luscious and never more beautiful. When Aryana opened her eyes to him, he brought his wet fingers to his lips, tasting her essence and groaned almost in pain. He had never experienced anything so erotic in his life.

“Do you hurt?” she asked, concerned.

“Yes and no. It is an unbearable urge, a painful hunger, but it will pass.”

“Show me what you need.”

Looking into her eyes, Miran freed himself from his clothing and placed her hand on his velvet hardness, his hand on top of hers, directing their stroking movements and he reached a sweet release almost immediately. Aryana watched in wonder to see the ecstasy that looked like pain cross over his face, his seed spilling over their entwined hands.

He drew her to him wanting to prolong the closeness he felt. She asked, “Will you sleep here with me tonight?” and he nodded, too deeply moved to speak.

Aryana thought carefully about what he had told her and shown her. “You have deliberately made me doubt my feelings for you. If not desire than what is love.”

“I know, but you need to understand the difference between infatuation and love. Your sheltered innocence and sexual inexperience does indeed mean you cannot make an informed decision just like you told me in Alamut. You are wise as well as brave and true, my Princess.”

_And I love you._


	4. Storm and Shelter

They left early the next morning, Sheik Amar and Seso came along to see them off. “I expect an invitation to the wedding.” Amar demanded, causing them both to flush as they glanced at each other.

“Oh ho, hit a nerve did I?” he teased, laughing. “I’ll send word when the Roman shows up again.” And he waved them off.

They rode through to the end of the valley, a dramatic, steep canyon emptying out onto the open desert. There were human skeletons at this end too and Marin spotted a few lookouts on the cliffs. Turning in the direction of the imperial road, the morning was spent mostly in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Aryana felt the reimposition of her fetters after the liberating few days she had enjoyed. Her thoughts also dwelt on the incredibly sensual experience Marin had given her, afraid the intimacy they had shared would also come to an end.  

Miran thought about the consequences of falling in love with her, how his life would change, what his father and mother would say. If Aryana chose him. And how he would feel if she didn’t.

Amar had told them of a lone tree where they could rest in the shade as the sun sat high in the sky. The unpleasant baking heat made them feel lethargic. Miran found himself being lazily examined by Aryana again and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Near my city is narrow valley hidden in the cliffs where water springs from the rocks. Your eyes are the exact color as the moss and ferns that grow there” she said with a winsome smile, managing to knock him off balance again. “I find it hard to believe that I could feel this way with just any man.”

“Newly found passion can be confusing and intoxicating.”

“You are easily aroused by me. Is it always so with other women?”

Should he tell her his true feelings? He must be honest, like she always was with him. But a declaration of love would make her feel an obligation. He was determined to give her the freedom to find out what she really wanted, to let go of her childhood infatuation for him.

“No.”

“So you doubt me only because of my inexperience. You will still send me husband hunting.” she said with resentment.

“I don’t want you to choose another man. But I want you to be sure. That you don’t convince yourself that you love me because you have always done so.”

 _There is wisdom in his words_ Aryana thought _and Miran cares for me._ But she didn’t know if it was enough to compensate for the sacrifices he would have to make. “What you say is sensible. So be it.”

\---

That evening they met Miran’s people, who had not been waiting long. Going through the valley saved three days of travel, maybe four, he calculated. Back with the company, Miran spent time with his captain and secretary, receiving a report of the last few days and telling them of the potential opportunities in the Valley of the Slaves. But he made a sleeping place in the open air for the two of them as before, only this time there was one bedroll that they would share. When they lay together he gathered her to him without comment or permission and they slept.

Late in the night Marin woke her urgently, “Aryana there is a storm coming, we must seek shelter. She could feel the wind and sand hitting her face. She had never been out in the open during a sandstorm and was frightened, imagining the Sands of Time. Miran took her shawl and wrapped it around her nose and mouth, tying it securely.

“No time to get our bedding, I must see to the camp” and they ran towards the tents barely visible on the horizon, sand blowing harder now. The camp was active, people rushing to secure the tents and bring the horses inside two of them for protection. Aryana swallowed her fear and helped lead the horses to safety. The storm blew strongly now, almost knocking her off her feet when Miran found her to make her seek shelter as well, bringing her to the tent that was always erected for her even though she hardly used it. Once she was safely inside, Miran turned to go.

“You aren’t leaving me alone are you?” not able to keep the fear out of her voice.  

“I will check on the others and be back shortly,” he assured her. He had not planned to stay with her, wary of temptation, but had seen that she was afraid.

Aryana removed her clothes, shaking out her hair. The sand was everywhere, but the grains were dry and fell off easily as she used a towel to clean herself. Miran entered then and couldn’t help staring at her stunning nakedness before she covered herself with a robe.  

His face looked grim as he looked at her, she could not read his expression. But he was thinking how difficult it was going to be for him to control himself while they shared the tent in total privacy.

Not speaking, he also shook the sand off himself, removing the protective cloth over his face, his armour, his clothes. Aryana admired him openly, enjoying this unexpected chance to look at him, to touch him. She brought the towel to clean him off, using her bare hands more than the towel, letting her fingers linger over his battle scars. Miran had to grit his teeth, he was hard, finding it almost impossible to stand still while she freely explored his body. _This is getting dangerous._

“My self-control is not limitless,” he said wryly. And she gave a throaty laugh, handing him a shirt.

“It’s too late.” He caught her wrist and pulled her toward him. But he dredged up one last bit of willpower. “If you don’t want this tell me now.”

Aryana moved into his embrace, wrapping her free arm around his neck, pulling his head down to kiss her. Marin pushed the robe roughly off her shoulders, his hands demanding, running along the curves of her body and over her breasts. She leaned into the strength of his chest, her nipples hardened as they brushed against his rough, tanned skin. Kissing deeply, tongues dancing together, breathing hard. Suddenly Marin picked her up and carried her to the bed. He had to taste her.

He couldn’t control this hunger, it might shock her but he was beyond restraint. Pushing her onto her back, one last deep kiss before he trailed with mouth and tongue down her neck to her breasts. Cupping them in his hands as he took the nipples one by one into his mouth, rolling them with his tongue. Aryana was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, moaning with need. Her soft gasps were becoming his favorite sounds. He knew he wanted to spend every possible minute from now on trying to elicit those sounds from her. With a groan of fervor he took her hips and raised her to his mouth, his tongue parting her folds. Soft, hot wetness circling over her bud of desire, his tongue becoming hard to enter her.

Aryana was engulfed by his passion, she could only grip the bedclothes for support, her legs over his shoulders as he drank her deeply. She climaxed forcefully but he didn’t stop, licking, sucking, pushing his fingers into her with a steady, hard rhythm until she came apart in his arms again, screaming her release.

Aryana lay, not able to move, dazed by what he had done to her. She felt him gather her in his arms, stroking her hair, whispering things that she couldn’t quite hear.

After a time, when she could speak again, she asked “What about you?”

“I have had my release, it happened as I feasted on you.”

Aryana closed her eyes and took his hand to kiss it sweetly, before sleep took her.

\---

When she woke, the storm still raged on outside, lightning and thunder, wind and sand. Miran wasn’t in the bed next to her and she looked around in a mild panic, only to see him, beautifully naked, searching in a saddlebag he had brought in with him. As usual, he felt her eyes and turned to her with a lazy smile.

“I only had time to gather a few things for a makeshift meal. Fruit, bread, dried meat, wine.”

“Water?” she requested and he brought a waterskin to her in bed, sitting next to her. “I would help you but I can’t move properly, my legs are weak,” she complained playfully, sitting up to whisper in his ear, arms around his neck. “And I’m sore. What did you do to me?” giving his earlobe a lick and laughing when he shivered.

When she lay back down she saw Miran had an extremely smug look on his face. “Feeling pleased with yourself Prince?” she teased. Then very sincerely, “As you should be.”

Feeling a bit flustered by her compliment, he brought the food and they ate an untidy meal in bed, talking.

“All your sisters have left home? I shall miss not seeing them again.”

“Afra and Darya may be there for Father’s birthday, they do not live very far away. And there are new family members for you to meet.”

“Tell me about them.”

“I will tell you of them in order: Shahzore’s first wife is Arsia. She is terribly dignified, a proper queen and they have two sons. You will find Golnar interesting. She only agreed to the match because she wanted to study at our school for physicians. The alliance was an important one to us so it was agreed she would be free to focus solely on her work.”

“A marriage in name only?” Aryana asked surprised.

“Well we thought so, but Shahzore would visit her at the hospital and I was told she is with child and living at the palace now. I do know the head of the school mentors her to become his successor so I doubt her vocation will be forsaken. Ronaq also has two wives. Dilara loves children and has just had her forth. Nareen couldn’t wait to escape her family, they were cruel to her somehow. She seems very fragile emotionally and both Ronaq and Dilara are very protective of her.”

“My younger brother Varten is not married yet, like myself.”

“What is his excuse?”

“Father doesn’t think he is mature enough to be a good husband.”

“Uncle Garsiv’s son Taimur is married to a great musician. Freema is another who came to us primarily for one of our schools. They have twins, a son and daughter. His second wife Laleh is very reserved, I don’t know her very well. Hesam’s wife Minu is very special. She radiates a kind of wholesome goodness and charm. She is everyone’s favourite.”

“But Hesam is such a gruff, austere sort of man,” Aryana commented, feeling a bit sorry for her.

“Yes, but he visibly melts when he is with her. I don’t expect another wife for him. They have a daughter, who he dotes on.”

“And lastly Baaz is still too much of an idiot for marriage.”

It was night again and the storm was subsiding but not yet over. They left the tent to check on the others and get more food. Everything was being returned to order, ready for an early departure the next morning.

Aryana asked him, “I know propriety requires you to leave me but I want you to stay. Will you?” He took her hand and they walked back into their private refuge. She considered him carefully, Miran hoped or feared she had plans for him and he was right. “I enjoy touching you, will you give me free rein tonight?”

“You must be the responsible one then, I am not allowed to compromise you.” knowing he would surely lose command of himself.

“Then you must not touch me without permission.” she teased him. “And I will remain clothed this time.”

“Agreed,” he chuckled. “What would you have me do?”

“Stand still.” and she began slowly to undress him, studying his body with admiration. Miran was transfixed. No woman had ever looked at him that way before. With lust, yes. But not as though he was a great work of art, or a god. When his garments had been discarded, she moved her hands silkily over his chest, his back, his muscled arms. Aryana could feel his erection, an insistent twitch against her stomach and she reached further down, a soft hand around his hardness, the other tangled in the coarse golden hair around it. He groaned and unconsciously raised a hand to Aryana’s mouth, asking for a kiss.

Miran stood motionless before her, but his muscles were tight, his hands clenched into fists.  She wondered what it felt like, his powerful urge to plunge into her, to take her, that he must expend so much effort to control it, to ignore the demands of his body. When he had pleasured her, she had experienced a languid, sweet bliss before the desperate need slowly came over her. Did he never enjoy that dreamlike delerium of sensation?

Smiling with her secret plans for him, she took his hand in hers. “Come lay down on the bed.” Aryana leant over him, one hand touching his face with total concentration, making a study of him. Fingers over his brows, lightly pulling his eyelashes, noticing the faint lines in the corners of his eyes. She ran fingers through the curls of his surprisingly soft hair, massaging his brow. She caressed the chiseled planes of his face and Miran began to relax, his eyes closing to focus on the sensations she caused. He was so beautiful to her that Aryana audibly sighed in appreciation, running her thumb over over his bottom lip, pushing it inside to touch his tongue and Miran gave it a playful nip with his teeth.  

Aryana turned her attention lower, her hair sweeping over his chest something between a tickle and a caress. Sitting beside him she took him in her hand and stroked him carefully, watching his reaction, liking the moans of pleasure he uttered. She thought men must enjoy a mouth as well, so she gave an experimental lick to the head of his manhood and he jerked and groaned loudly. A confirmation, she took him in her mouth, licking, sucking, moving her tongue over and down the shaft.

Miran was lost, he held her head gently as she worked on him, moaning encouragement, begging, saying her name like a prayer. Everything else fell away as the feeling of him settled around her, inside of her. The way he felt heavy in her mouth, his taste, how he felt in her hand, hard and thick. Her tongue explored him, finding his ridges and bumps, the spot that made him groan and the one that made him wrap his fingers into her hair, almost painfully tight.

“Aryana, I’m close” his voice warned, low and dark.

She wanted to taste him, and took him so he exploded in her mouth with a horse groan and she used her hands to prolong his climax, his body shuddering with his release.

When he could think clearly again he asked her, “How did you know…?”

“I applied what you taught me, I suppose. It didn’t really arouse me, I needed to concentrate” she mused with her usual frankness. “But I liked pleasing you, and enjoyed watching you lose control. I know you always exercise great self-mastery with me, putting my pleasure before your own. I hoped to give you an equally euphoric experience.”

“It was. I can’t move. Now it’s your turn to look smug.”

She smiled with satisfaction “You taste of musk and salt.”

And he groaned. “Please, may I touch you? Don’t make me beg.”

Laughing, “Yes.”

After he had kissed, stroked and licked her into oblivion, they lay entwined in each other’s arms.

“When we get to court, you won’t... ignore me will you?” she asked quietly.

“Do you mean will I come to you in the night and use my hands and mouth, anything and everything I have to give, except taking you fully?” He asked with frustration, but continued stoically “No we cannot, there are too many eyes and ears in the palace.”

She hugged him closer to her. “I don’t know how I will bear it” and felt like crying.

“It will be agony” Miran agreed.


	5. Nasaf

They arrived at the city gate of the capitol a day later at twilight. Miran was greeted formally by the Captain on guard, the other men on duty shouting out welcomes. Nasaf was relatively quiet at that time of day, the markets being shut and most people at home for the evening meal. Aryana looked up to the rooftops, imagining her father as a boy with Bis at his heels trying to catch up. She had visited court before, the last time when she was 14, the time Miran had ignored her so resolutely. The memory was not a happy one, but she could smile fondly at her young self. After all he was 20 then, no wonder he had not been impressed with her.

With only a few of his men, the rest going to the barracks or to their own homes in the city, they went to the palace stables. Help was offered, but Miran preferred to care for his horse himself and Aryana followed his example, wanting to prolong this last moment they would be alone.

“Let’s sleep here in the straw” she suggested in jest. But if he had agreed she would have been glad.

He gave her a wistful smile and caressed her cheek. They kissed sweetly and sadly, not knowing what the future held for them. And after a last tender embrace they turned together to walk deeper into the palace. “I will escort you to the chambers set aside for Uncle Dastan, do you remember where they are?”

“No, not really. I was always getting lost here.”

“I remember finding you in the rose garden, you had been crying I think. When you noticed me, your royal mask came on so swiftly, I was astonished at your maturity.”

“I was crying over you of course, romantic illusions being dashed. I was furious with you, I would be a sovereign and a lowly third son was making me feel weak and miserable. I was ready to release you then, with all the venom I could muster, but it seemed you saw me for the first time and I couldn’t let you go.”

“Ah, my Princess,” as he embraced her “I’m sorry I hurt you. All young men are fools, but that is no excuse. Do you wish we had married when you were 17 as was planned?”

“No,” with a sigh “if I had been cosseted in your embrace, I would not have the mettle to be the ruler I must be. My mother was always against it, but she let me draw my own conclusions as she always does.”

At the door to her chamber, they said a formal leave-taking, aware of the servants waiting nearby to assist Aryana.

“I hope you are comfortable and rest well” he said conventionally, his eyes soft with tenderness.

“Good night Prince Miran. Thank you for your escort.”

\---

After a quick meal, wash and change of clothes, Miran went to the library where his father often worked.

“Welcome home, my son” Tus said warmly as they embraced. “How was your journey?”

Miran wanted to say: astonishing, shattering, joyful, bittersweet… But he settled for “Eventful.”

Tus raised an eyebrow. “Princess Aryana. She is more than you expected isn’t she?”

“Yes. She is perceptive, brutally honest, generous, wise beyond her years, disciplined, fearless. And she can fight like Uncle Dastan.”

King Tus smiled as he wrote on a piece of paper and handed it to a scribe who left to fetch what he had requested. “You traveled through the Valley of the Slaves I hear. What did you think of it?”

“A perfect place for a spy. And your careful treatment of Sheik Amar’s birds has earned Persia his loyalty. We can expect information from him.”

The scribe returned, handing a scroll to the king. “You may go.”

“Here Miran, I thought you would find this interesting” as he unrolled the parchment. “It is the marriage contract of your uncle Dastan and Princess Tamina.”

In black and white what Aryana would expect of him as her consort.

“Their religious duties feature prominently.” Miran commented as he read it through. “Aryana carries a symbol on the palm of her hand” he ventured, hoping his father could shed some light.

“Yes, Dastan has one also, but I don’t know what it signifies.”

“One wife. I’m surprised grandfather agreed to that.”

“Dastan insisted. _‘To keep you from a imposing an unwanted girl on us for political reasons’_ I believe his words were” with a smile of remembrance. “And nothing about the dreaded Terms of Access. They didn’t sign it until a month later. There was a time of great uncertainty between them, Princess Tamina was undecided I believe. I had the impression she expected the usual royal marriage but Dastan wanted more.”

“They are still very happy together. I have not witnessed a marriage like theirs before.”

King Tus studied his son, seeing a change in him. He looked troubled but resolute, a look that Dastan often carried in the difficult time before his marriage. “My son, I do not want to influence your decision on this matter. Your work for me is invaluable to the Empire. But I also know that my brother and Princess Tamina guard something terrible in Alamut, and a calamity was just barely avoided because of Dastan.”

“Your Uncle Nizam…”  

Tus nodded sadly. “And his Hassansins.”

Miran froze. There it was, the divided loyalty Aryana warned him of. He should tell his father of Zolm but he knew he wouldn’t, for her sake.

Tus continued, “I know not what this danger entails, but I fear it is mystical and Aryana must surely bear this burden as well. A life spent in that duty would not be wasted, and is probably more important than the machinations of a king and the preservation of his empire.”

Miran felt a guilty weight lift at his father’s words. “I want her, if she’ll have me.”

Tus smiled with a bit of wistful sadness, to lose Miran like he had Dastan and his own daughters. _But so is life, they must all follow their own path._

\---

Aryana was allowed to spend the next day in her rooms, the expectation being that she would need time to recover from the journey. Nonsense of course, but she preferred solitude and time to rebuild the mask that she had discarded for Miran. The chambers were decorated as in Alamut, cream and gold, with the symbols of the Guardian used as decoration, no doubt to help her mother and now herself feel more at home. And it did in a way help restore her to a calm, reflective state. But she still felt her true home was a tent in the desert with Miran.

The birthday celebration for King Tus that night was not a courtly affair, it was a family gathering. Prince Varten came to escort her. His obvious surprise and pleasure in her beauty elicited a playful gallantry in him as he offered her his arm with an exaggerated flourish.

After walking in silence for a time he asked cheekily, “Such a vision, why aren’t you married yet?”

“You would to be a candidate?” Aryana was enjoying an opportunity to flirt. “I was told you are not ready for marriage.”

“No, I did not think so either” holding both her hands, opening her arms wide so he could admire her fully, he said with a charming smile and a bold look in his eye, “But just look at you…”

“Varten!” Miran barked angrily. He had been waiting for them to arrive. “Show more respect” he chided sharply.

Varten took one look at his brother and complained, “If it is that way, you should have warned me.” And he bowed curtly and left them alone.

She was gratified by Miran’s obvious jealousy and took pity on him. “Varten is too frivolous, I need someone more serious of mind.” He gave her a sheepish smile as they entered the banqueting hall and he brought her to the king.

 _She did cause a stir, how could she not?_ mused Miran, watching their family’s reaction to her. The uncles visited Alamut often but the princes hadn’t seen her since she was 14 years old. He was a fool to send Varten to her without any warning as he said, his overreaction to their flirtation surprised him but it really shouldn’t have. Watching her with the ‘suitors’ would be unbearable. Perhaps he should encourage his father to find a task for him elsewhere.

During the feast the king guided Aryana around personally to greet his wives - Queen Shaima, Kyrah, Esther and her Uncle Garsiv who stood with her other Aunts - Jasmina and Roshana. Her cousins the princes and a few of the daughter princesses and to meet the many new wives, everyone making sure she felt at ease.  Miran kept his distance, spending his time with his mother Kyrah, but Aryana could feel him watching her. His family also noticed his possessive attention with knowing smiles but his brothers refrained from teasing him openly, not wanting to embarrass Aryana.

“I did not think I would ever see a more beautiful woman than our Aunt Tamina” his eldest brother Shahzore commented carefully.

“Yes,” agreed Miran thoughtfully as he watched her across the room. “But her beauty is only one of her many qualities. In fact if I had to list them all, it would not even come that high. You just wait, something interesting is going to happen tonight because of her.”

Shahzore considered his words and what they implied. “You got to know her well on your journey then. Have you … come to an understanding?”

“If you mean are we ready to sign a contract, no.”

“What does she want?”

“From me she wants the one-wife clause; from the other suitors, impersonal diversion in the bedchamber. At least until she has an heir.”

“You would give her what she wants.” Knowing it would mean Miran leaving their father and his mother, his brothers, his place in the succession, his role in the Empire.

“Yes” he said with quiet determination.

Aryana was enjoying herself but felt a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, all of them her family. Of the new princesses, she found an immediate rapport with Freema because she knew of Alamut’s music school and the great teacher Niaz, who was once a sergeant-at-arms in the King’s army, because he had trained Freema’s own teacher there. Their conversation became interspersed with small pieces of melody and the room quietened around them as the others began to listen, hoping for more.

“Come Aryana shall we sing together for our family?” Freema asked.

Aryana felt a bit shy, never having performed before so many people, but didn’t want to miss the opportunity to sing with Freema who took Aryana’s hand and squeezed it encouragingly. “Show me your range.” Aryana intoned the lowest notes she could sing in comfort, up to the highest. “Do you like Niaz’s song from the Carpathian Mountains? You take the melody and I the harmony.” Aryana smiled her agreement and after gathering an inner stillness, began.

The two women sang, hand in hand, Aryana with her eyes closed to help her concentrate. She couldn’t let herself be beguiled away from the core melody by Freema’s masterful musicianship as she played with the composition and constructed an exquisite duet. At the end, Freema had Aryana sing the last bars alone, peaking at one last poignant note, then she joined Aryana with a simple scale from low to high, their voices coming together in unison, the blending creating an otherworldly sound, more potent than their two voices alone. The ethereal last note went on and on until Freema could tell Aryana’s voice was fading and gripped her hand once as the signal to stop. There came not a sound from the people listening and Aryana opened her eyes to awed, stunned faces and quite a few tears. Finally, Garsiv wiped an eye and uttered an oath, breaking the spell they had woven and the room erupted with shouts, laughter and clapping.

“I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed that. I hope we will be able to collaborate further while you are here.” Freema told her.

The king came to them and gave each an affectionate hug. “I had forgotten Niaz settled in Alamut. Is he…?

“Yes, two years ago. We miss him terribly, but he taught his nephew and I all his songs.

“All of them?” asked Garsiv roguishly.

With a teasing smile Aryana began to sing a bawdy soldiers’ song. Her uncles joined in happily and soon all the princes came to stand with them arm in arm, singing more with power than finesse, their vital male voices filling the room. As Miran sang he looked Aryana in the eye, the lyrics were an explicit description of lusty sex and he saw her dawning comprehension of the foul words’ meaning thanks to their adventures in the desert. The profane song ended with blushes and laughter, Miran grinning wickedly at her.

Shahzore caught Miran’s eye and nodded his understanding.

\---

Many of the family would depart soon after the King’s birthday. His daughters back to their homes. Hesam and Baaz back to the army, and Miran’s mother would go with Varten to her daughter who just given birth to her second child. They set aside a day to spend together before she left. Aryana knew her Aunt Kyrah rather well, she often came to Alamut with King Tus, enjoying the relative freedom she felt there. Their conversation was candid and direct, both of them caring about Miran and not wanting any misunderstanding between them.

“He has decided I do not know my own mind and heart, insisting that I be given time to explore my other options. Unfortunately, there is a slight chance he is right about me, so I conceded.”

“Too honorable, how dare he” Kyrah laughed sympathetically.

“Yes, he is entirely too much of everything.” She sighed. “And I feel guilty that he would have to leave all of you. He has not confided his true feelings for me. So we must wait and see where our fate takes us.”

Kyrah did not tell Aryana that her son was obviously in love and completely committed to her. They had to find their own way and she was sure that they would.

\---

The first royal banquet was held that night. There would be a series of them and were officially in honor of the king’s birthday, but were really a pretext for the parade of suitors. Several of the family attended, she suspected to give her moral support, but Miran was not among them. She was introduced to one man after another, many princes, a sultan, even a handsome king who was very taken with her.

“You are beautiful, Princess!” King Zoltan exclaimed loudly and immediately ruined the compliment by declaring with enthusiasm “you look just like me!” They did indeed have the same coloring, dark hair and deep blue eyes. “But you are in silver, I in gold, this will not do.” And he left the room without another word, leaving her bemused.

Of the princes, one was too dull for words, his only interest being hunting. Another could not hide his blind ambition, seeing her as a handy stepping-stone to a kingdom of his own. When she made it clear that her sovereignty was protected by law and tradition, Aryana had the feeling she wouldn’t be seeing him again. There was also one who exuded a cold intelligence and she wondered if there was any real emotion buried deep within. It could be worth finding out.

After two unbearable hours she went to Shahzore. “Send for Miran.” When he came a few minutes later he went to Shahzore to find out what he wanted but was pointed to Aryana instead. Approaching her cautiously, Miran could not guess her mood, her mask set firmly on her face. She had been struggling to converse with the dull prince and excused herself to meet him.

Aryana was so annoyed, she used her mantle of sovereign to demand “You will attend the accursed banquets. If I must suffer this so shall you.”

He recognized a royal command when he heard one and bowed stiffly in resignation. And she didn’t speak to or look at him again.

She turned next to the Sultan of Tabarestan, he was quite a bit older than she, but she found him to be charming and interesting. She was disappointed to learn that he came to meet her on behalf of his sons.

“I am here to confer with King Tus and was curious when I heard of you.”

“To be honest Your Majesty, I would have found your interest in me agreeable.”

“How kind of you my dear, but I am much too old for you. Unfortunately I perceive that my sons are too immature, you would not find them worthy to be your consort, not for many years yet, if at all” he sighed.

The vain king returned wearing a different ensemble, midnight blue with touches of silver, took Aryana’s hand and pulled her away from the sultan, dragging her to a large mirror set on a back wall. He stood next to her admiring their reflection.

“See how lovely we are together?” There was a giddy, breathless sound to his voice. He was aroused, Aryana realized with disgust.

“You must tell me what you will wear tomorrow night so I may match you.” he urged.

Aryana glared at Miran in the mirror as he stood smirking behind her and she decided to directly dissuade the odious man from pursuing her. “You are aware Highness that my husband must reside with me in Alamut?”

“Oh yes, that is not a problem, my mother rules as regent in my kingdom.”

Miran inserted himself into the conversation, “But surely you are old enough to rule?”

“I have no interest and my mother likes being queen, she does pester me to wed and produce an heir, but I understood all male children we had would be for me.”

Aryana blanched, it had been so for the other High Priestesses, but the thought of having to give up her own children filled her with dread.

“Excuse me, I’m not feeling well” she lied, and fled from the room, Miran watched her go with concern. That had touched a nerve and he wondered if it was true.

\---

The next day Miran took her to meet Garsiv’s first son Hesam, his wife Minu and their daughter before they too would be leaving to rejoin the army which he commanded. Hesam’s family always went with him, he could not bear to be parted from them for long. They had only talked briefly at the king’s birthday and this would be their only chance to become better acquainted. Minu came to her with a warm smile, taking both her hands. She was older than Aryana had expected, in fact she and her husband were of an age. Aryana realized she must have met her before, but she had been lost in her 14 year old anguish then. Their daughter Azita was one of the oldest grandchildren at 12 years of age.  Growing up with the army had given the girl a unique upbringing. She was confident, serious and direct.

“I have heard of Uncle Dastan’s skill. They say you can fight like him. Will you show me?”

“I suppose I can, I brought my arms and armour with me.” Miran raised an eyebrow. “Well you never know when you might need them” she said with a shrug.

“The older children are training this afternoon.” Hesam told them, “Azita, we’ll join you at the arena in three hours but I believe you have a music lesson to attend now.” She made a face, but gave Aryana a wide smile as she left. If Azita were a boy she would become a general like her father. Aryana imagined her Uncle Garsiv was very proud of such a grandchild and hoped she would somehow be allowed to follow her talents later in life.

Aryana asked Minu about her own presentation, but got an answer she did not expect.

“I met Hesam in the harem when he came for his lessons.”

Aryana blinked. “Lessons?” looking at Miran in astonishment. “You were given lessons? That explains so much” she chuckled “but not everything.” Aryana patted his cheek teasingly. Her outburst gave their secret away, but she didn’t care. Minu inspired confidences. The two princes exchanged an interesting look, Hesam with a wicked grin and Miran a guilty flush.

Minu laughed and continued “I do not know where I was born, only that I was born a slave. I was given to King Tus as a gift when I was 15. When Hesam came to the harem he would always speak with me. As you know the king does not keep concubines, he always arranges a suitable marriage for us and when my turn came…”

“I wanted her” Hesam said bluntly “so I asked for her.”

“But he first asked me if I wanted him” she said looking at her husband with tenderness.

\---

Miran came with her to her room to wait as she put on her armour and pick up her swords. She didn’t bother changing her clothes just braided her hair securely and was fixing the last clasp of her breastplate as she rejoined him.

“You will fight in a dress?” He asked, surprised.

“As women we must be able to defend ourselves wearing our normal attire, no suiting up for battle for us. I shouldn’t be wearing armour either but some precautions must be taken. Will there be a sparring partner or will I have to fight a dummy?”

“The instructors should be able to offer you resistance. In my day they were very competent.”

News had traveled and when they arrived they found a crowd waiting, all the family, the suitors and many of the palace staff and off-duty soldiers were there as well. Miran gave her an encouraging salute and went to stand with the others and Aryana smiled at Azita as she walked into the arena to speak with the three instructors. She was used to men underestimating her, so she cut to the chase.

“I can fight, but will have to prove my skill to you. I suggest we begin with one of you as my sparring partner. When you see I can handle it, the other two can join in the exercise as they see fit.”

Two of the men looked at the third who was their superior. The older man nodded and said “My name is Parvaiz, your father trained me before he went to Alamut. I was never able to beat him.”

Aryana smiled at him. “Neither can I” she admitted. “Shall we fight clean or dirty?”

“I would be instructive for the children to see what can be done to save their life. The girls especially. We will start clean, then get dirty at your signal Princess.”

Aryana surveyed the field looking for objects or advantageous situations that she could use. The arena was formerly a large square garden, the fountain in the center was now surrounded by targets and in the four corners, practice dummies were firmly set in the sandy soil. There was a covered gallery surrounding the garden and it was full of people, Aryana looked around until she saw where Miran stood with her aunts and he smiled at her. They began with a choreographed warming up exercise where the four of them slowly moved in a circle striking each other’s swords, tempo and movement increasing, until they were all winded and Parvaiz called a halt.

He bowed to Aryana and the match began. He did go easy on her at first and to hurry things along she made a feint with one sword and struck his arm with the flat of the other. Parvais smiled and it began in earnest. Before long their swords were flashing in the sun, it didn’t look like either would gain an advantage when Aryana tucked into a roll and shot up within his reach slicing toward his unprotected hip, stopping at the last moment.

“Hit!” he shouted as he shot his own sword downward but she wasn’t there anymore, doing a backflip to land on her feet out of his reach, but he managed to slice into her skirt as she flew past. She quickly cut the loose material off her dress as the second instructor joined the fight.

With two, Aryana had to use more extreme measures, launching herself into a backflip to land behind the newcomer, hitting his shoulder as he turned toward her which unbalanced her so that she had to use her other arm as a counterbalance. He struck her extended sword so hard that she almost lost it. But she recovered quickly and sent her other down toward his wrist, which would have been badly injured or even cut off in a real battle.

“Hit!” And the audience clapped and cheered. Aryana could tell her opponents were forgetting she was a woman and a princess and she smiled grimly. Miran saw her cold satisfaction and held his breath, his heart filled with wonder and fear. Both men struck one of her swords from below at the same time and it flew out of her hand.

The third man approached her from behind, Miran had to restrain himself from shouting out a warning, but there was no need. Aryana saw him and ran for a practice dummy, and seemed to run straight up it, did an elegant flip in the air and landed on the man’s shoulders with her remaining sword to his neck.

“Hit!” he shouted and the crowd roared. She pushed herself off him right before Parvaiz’ sword reached her and she rolled under his arm, but just as she stood the third instructor struck her sword hand painfully and she dropped it in the sand.

“Dirty!” Aryana yelled and all three men converged on her at once. She kicked one in the groin, picked up a shield that leant against a dummy and sent it flying at his head and he dropped to his knees, dazed. In almost the same moment she threw sand into the other’s face, launching herself feet first at his chest to knock him over on top of his comrade. She ran to where the torn piece of her dress lay, but just as she reached it, Parvaiz caught her braided hair and pulled her backward off her feet. The watchers gasped in shock, but instead of falling flat she twisted as she landed at his feet. Aryana grabbed his legs and toppled him onto his stomach, scrambled over him, planted a knee on his back and wrapped her torn dress around his neck to strangle him. Parvaiz struggled for a moment then went still.

“Yield!” he shouted hoarsely and the crowd erupted. Aryana and Parvaiz helped each other stand and turned toward the other two who had gained their feet as well.

“Thank you” she told them and they bowed low with respect. The princes ran out to pick her up onto their shoulders and carried her to King Tus.

“Dastan would have been so proud of you, Lioness of Persia.” He took a ring off his little finger, gold with a lion’s head and gave it to her. She put the ring on, held up her fist in triumph, the crowd cheering her.  

Azita looked up at Aryana with shining eyes. “We will be sending her to Alamut I think” Hesam said.

“We will be sending them all” Garsiv added, very impressed with what he had just witnessed.

When the onlookers began to depart, the instructors came to speak with Aryana and the children who were gathered around her.

“You are unharmed?” Aryana asked, slightly worried. The last phase of the fight had been rather intense.

“Yes Princess” Parvaiz assured her and the other two grinned and nodded. “Prince Dastan would not have been so gentle with us.” He turned his attention to the young princes and princesses. “Children, what have you learned from our demonstration?”

The oldest boy who would be king in his turn answered “Use whatever comes to hand.”

Freema and Taimur’s daughter said “Boys have an obvious vulnerability” and the other girls giggled.

Then Azita said “Princess Aryana often maneuvered the enemy into the same area, hampering your freedom of movement and effectiveness.” A clever observation which earned her a grunt of approval from her grandfather Garsiv who stood behind them. And she continued “She would have won even without her use of acrobatics.”

“Exactly” said Parvaiz. “At the end you saw the Princess act quickly to neutralize us. We were not prepared for her tactics.”

“Men underestimate women.” said Ronaq and Dilara’s daughter wisely.

“And that is an important lesson for you boys as well” said King Tus.

As she and Miran walked back to her room she said, “The instructors took the loss quite well. They gave me a real contest, I am grateful to them.”

“And you gave their students an invaluable lesson.”

“Have you ever had to fight a woman?”

He looked down at her, not sure if he wanted to tell her this story, but he thought _why not_ and began. “Only once, she was an killer employed by the Turkish Sultan. I was not there as myself and someone had discovered my secret.”

“That you were spying on them” Aryana said dryly.

He smirked. “She attacked me in the night as I was sleeping. It was close for a while, I was naked and rather vulnerable. I got a lucky punch across her jaw and twisted her knife arm behind her and suddenly she stopped fighting and kissed me instead.”

“You had sex with the woman who was trying to kill you!?”

Miran shrugged “It turns out she liked pain, so I gave her what she wanted and she let me live.” Seeing the question in her eyes, “I was not enthusiastic but the body can be easily manipulated, especially a man’s. And it was an educational experience, I had not been with someone who enjoyed such rough pleasures before. But it was not something I would like to repeat” he admitted ruefully. “I expected her to try to finish the job when it was over but she just walked out.”

She imagined herself fighting with a naked Miran, blood raised in battle. “I understand how she could have been distracted from her task” she murmured.  

“Please don’t look at me like that” he implored, longing to kiss her but there were too many people around to see.

“Like what?” she asked innocently, “like I’m imagining you as a naked Greek hero in the Games?”

And he made a noise between a laugh and a groan.

\---

At another of the King’s formal receptions Aryana was introduced to a prince from a neighboring kingdom near the Hindu Kush. He was dark of hair and eye, golden skin and handsome but not a warrior. They went apart as was expected to become acquainted. Aryana was by now used to her suitors dominating the conversation with themselves as the chief topic, but Prince Dadvar waited for her to speak. He looked at her not with the usual lust or dazed astonishment, but a kind of cautious watchfulness. He showed signs of intelligence, so she decided to forgo the usual pleasantries.

“Although you are here to press your suit, I believe you are disappointed in me for some reason.”

“I don’t trust beauty. A beautiful, clever woman is more dangerous than any king or despot. I will find it difficult to trust you.”

A backhanded compliment, Aryana arched an eyebrow in surprise. “And I find you refreshing. You don’t want to be here any more than I do.”

“It is a fool’s errand, sending me here to woo a princess such as yourself. I have nothing to offer.”

“Except yourself. And I’m afraid you have already exhibited many of the qualities that I seek.”

“Such as?”

“Plain-speaking, clarity of thought…”

“You care for another I think. Prince Miran, if I’m not mistaken.”

“And perceptive,” Aryana smiled wryly.

“I also have my heart set on another.”

Aryana nodded her understanding. “Shall we forget marriage and speak together as friends instead?”

“Yes Princess, it would be my honor.”

Miran skulked in a corner, not able to look away. He could tell she found the man interesting and she looked at ease with him. This one was an obvious candidate. He couldn’t watch anymore and left in an ill humor.

\---

The banquets and receptions began to follow a seamless choreography. At every function the suitors who had been rejected were replaced by new ones and at the end of the evening Shahzore would come ask her which ones should be dismissed in their turn. She had tried to get rid of King Zoltan, but apparently he was too important to be refused outright. She was still not sure about the cold Prince Kallias and she kept Prince Dadvar around to talk to when she needed a respite. Miran was always there, but they didn’t often speak. She knew he watched her, but he made no move to claim her and she wondered if he ever would. The closeness she had felt with him began to slip away leaving her hurt and angry.

There was only one new arrival that night, a prince from Balkh who had his sister with him. They were distant cousins and their father was a diplomat so they had been to the Persian court before and chatted easily with the family members who were there. Prince Isaad was close to her own age and she found him rather immature, a kind of boisterous puppy.  And even she could tell that he was inexperienced, flushing and stammering when he talked with her. Aryana realized with chagrin that if she had not known Miran, she would have found the young prince endearing instead of irritating.

It took her awhile to notice that Prince Isaad’s sister was spending a lot of time in Miran’s company. Aryana’s eyes narrowed on them, hearing her laugh at something he said. It was a very attractive throaty laugh and she saw many men in the room turn in her direction.

Her brother noticed Aryana’s interest. “Tigran has her heart set on one of the king’s unmarried sons” Issad confided carelessly. “That’s why we came actually. Not that…” he faltered, realizing finally that he was being indiscreet, “not that I wouldn’t like...um, well, I like you very much” he ended lamely.

As the evening wore on Aryana became more and more disturbed by Miran and Tigran. Now that she knew, it seemed to her that he was flirting shamelessly with her. As they ate, Tigran offered him a slice of mango which left a trail of sticky juice running down Miran’s wrist. They laughed together as he licked it off. Aryana felt herself grow hot with rage and finally realized what was afflicting her. Jealousy. She felt her mask slip for a moment, letting her possessive anger shine through and Miran saw it, raising his eyebrows in surprise. His evident confusion appeased her somewhat, he obviously was not trying to encourage the Princess’ attentions. This was all in her own mind. _What an ugly emotion,_ she thought and Aryana resolved to suppress it and wouldn’t use her power of dismissal to drive the brother and sister away. But she did hope Vartan would come home soon to give the beautiful girl another target.

Miran saw Aryana’s jealousy and realized what that little incident must have looked liked to her. He considered Tigran and saw romantic interest which he would have recognized and dealt with earlier if his mind wasn’t full of Aryana. Miran made an excuse to leave, turning to his father with a helpless look on his face and the king understood the problem.  

“My dear”, King Tus said carefully “Prince Miran would not want to hurt you but he is hoping to wed Princess Aryana.”

“He is a suitor as well?” she asked, taken aback. “I had not noticed him pursuing her.”

“Their, ah, arrangement is long-standing. He wishes to give her freedom to change her mind.”

“I see” she sighed in resignation.

“Are you...very disappointed?”

She was speaking to the king, this was her chance and she gathered her courage. “Actually Highness, I like him, but what I really want is to be part of your family.”

The king was surprised. “May I ask why?”

“You and the princes treat women with respect and consideration, I could be myself here. I have visited many palaces and courts with my father. Yours is the most warm.”

“Thank you Tigran. We are as my father taught us.” And he wondered if Vartan was finally mature enough to appreciate a woman like her. “I hope you and your brother will be able to stay with us a bit longer?”

“Yes, certainly Highness.” she replied, pleased, if a bit baffled.

\---

At the next banquet Aryana needed a respite from the suitors and saw Crown Princess Arsia. She often came to these tedious affairs and Aryana felt grateful to her and went to tell her so.

“These things are awful, I remember well my eldest sister’s presentation. Shahzore was there, vying with the rest. More often than not he would come speak to me but I thought nothing of it. He left without my sister’s hand, but two years later he came for me. I was not impressed, assuming he was still trying to secure an important alliance for his father. He told me that my sister played at being a queen, but I was one.”

“Oh my, that would turn a girl’s head.” Arsia smiled in agreement, before Aryana continued. “But he was right wasn’t he.” And she bowed her head to acknowledge Aryana’s compliment.

Shahzore’s second wife Golnar entered then and came to sit with them. She was six months pregnant but didn’t let it confine her, being present at all family gatherings. Aryana was curious about their relationship but didn’t know how to ask such a personal question.

“How are you feeling today?” asked Arsia kindly.

“Tired and swollen” Golnar laughed. “I have gained another two pounds and my breasts feel like they will burst out of my clothing.” She explained to Aryana, “I am taking notes on my condition to help other women. The remedies I found for the nausea in the beginning will be especially helpful I think.”

She gave Arsia a serious look. “I have heard women speak of sex during the last months of a pregnancy, but I’m not sure how it could be done safely. Would you mind?”

Arsia laughed “You are ever curious. No I do not mind. He will enjoy it, I’m sure. Especially your swollen breasts!”

Aryana listened to her borrow Crown Prince Shahzore for investigative purposes, her mouth open in shock, and Golnar laughed.

“Shahzore and Arsia gave me this gift” Golnar told her, rubbing her rounded tummy and smiling at Arsia. “I did not intend to have a child, but the idea slowly grew on me. I convinced myself it would be an important experiment, to experience pregnancy and childbirth. But I realized later it was a reaction to the sadness and death and often relief and joy I see in my work at the hospital. And when the child began to grow within me, I loved it without question.”

Arsia added “I do not find it difficult to share my husband with Golnar, she is a remarkable person. In fact all the princes have chosen exceptional women, we have great respect, liking and even affection for each other.”

“I have not spoken with Laleh, does she not mix with the family?” Aryana asked, noticing Taimur’s second wife standing alone across the room.

The other two women looked at each other “Laleh is an enigma. She married Taimur five years ago but none of us really knows her. When she first arrived we all made an effort, but she is extremely reserved. When she joins us she usually stands apart and observes.”

After a pause in their conversation the three women found themselves all idly gazing at Shahzore and he flushed, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘what’? Arsia smiled and said “I think I will remind him what I liked when I was pregnant.” As she went to him, they could see his mouth soften and his eyes becoming heavy-lidded and he took her hand without a word as they left the room.

Golnar chuckled “Yes, they have a good marriage.”

Aryana’s eyes fell on Miran across the room. “You do not have normal relations with your own husband. Don’t you find that... lonely?”

“I understand why you might think so but a platonic marriage was what I agreed to. Shahzore didn’t want another wife.” Golnar considered Aryana, recognizing honest curiosity in her question. “The arrangement was not a hardship for me, you see I prefer women.”

Aryana’s eyes widened in surprise and she suddenly felt like a naive child. She had never imagined that people would want to be with others of their own gender.

“You see,” Golnar continued, “I was raised in my father’s harem. He had many wives and concubines and at least 50 children. Love between woman was normal for us. In fact I didn’t think I liked men at all and was rather afraid of marriage, but when I met Shahzore we had a frank conversation and I found that marrying him would give me everything I wanted. When I came here and began training as a physician, coming in contact with men in a general way, I realized that I found men attractive as well but would never embark on that sort of relationship except with my husband. But I don’t want to come between Shahzore and Arsia. They are my family, my feelings for him are not...romantic. We are partners, the three of us.”

“Have you found another to love?”

“No, not yet. I have a few intimate friends, but nothing serious. The hospital is my consuming passion and I will be a mother soon. I am content with my life right now.”

\---

Aryana was still giving Prince Kallias the benefit of the doubt, he was a scholar from Bukhara, a thoughtful man who liked the idea of Alamut, quiet, contemplative and serious like himself. He was genuinely interested in her city, so much so that she had to be very careful in her answers, hoping he did not notice her evasiveness. His lack of any discernible emotion was a problem though, during their otherwise interesting conversations she was having no luck denting his facade, if it was a facade. She had tried humor, argument and teasing. And he found her attempts at flirtation baffling. She and Miran had become so estranged that this man was becoming a possibility, the only one after a month of travail.

When she was being honest with herself, she didn’t consider it a complete waste of time, she had met many types of people she had never encountered before, experienced painful jealousy, had made a true friend in Prince Dadvar and perfected her royal mask so it didn’t feel so unnatural to wear it. But she wondered if that was such a good thing.  

What she needed to solve the puzzle of Prince Kallias was a spy, someone to discover if he had any secrets and she just happened to know one. She felt a wave of spiteful pleasure in the thought of involving Miran more directly in her husband hunting. _He was going to hate it._ She got the chance to corner him late that evening, catching up with him in the hall as he left the banquet.

“Prince Miran, a word please.” And he waited for her, his face impassive. “I need your assistance. Prince Kallias is of interest to me, but he seems incapable of sharing his inner self. I want you to find out for me.”

“Find out what exactly?” he frowned.

“Well, anything you can. Does he prefer men for instance, that would explain his coldness.”

“If he is so cold, why are you considering him?”

“Don’t you remember, ‘an indifferent but attractive consort’?” and saw with grim satisfaction the memory hit home and his expression darken.

“And what about Prince Dadvar, must I extract his secrets as well?” Miran snarled at her.

“No, Prince Dadvar and I get along quite well” she shot over her shoulder as she turned to go, leaving him resentful and jealous.

\---

Aryana had just emerged from a bath, naked, drying her hair with a towel, when Miran knocked at her door. He had been avoiding her, her command to investigate Prince Kallias irked him, _which is no doubt what she intended_. He had searched his room, but the only thing of interest were a few scrolls that mentioned Alamut.

Miran sighed, he felt Aryana slipping away and he only had himself to blame. He had no idea what she thought or felt, she no longer confided in him. Her withdrawal was predictable, but somehow he had not expected it.

When she heard his voice Aryana felt suddenly provocative and wanted to elicit some kind of reaction from Miran, a real emotion. At the moment she didn’t care if it was lust or anger.

“If you are alone, come in.” As he entered she shook out her hair and put a hand on her hip, a hard, challenging look in her eyes. Miran paused on the threshold, staring at her, his expression frozen. She was a goddess standing there, glimmering in sunlight, wet hair sticking to her neck and naked breasts. Ruthless, magnificent and demanding.

She knew she had power over him and was in a mood to exercise it. “Give me what I want or get out.” Aryana told him flatly.

Miran shut the door and came to her almost against his will, kneeling before her, hands cupping her bottom as he buried his face in her belly. “Damn you” he whispered through clenched teeth. But he looked up into her fierce eyes with desire and a rueful smile on his lips. Returning her challenge, he licked around her navel slowly before dipping in, watching her eyes dilate and her mouth open in a silent gasp.

Aryana reached behind her for support, found the edge of a table to lean against and put her foot up on the chair next to her, revealing herself to him. Miran groaned. The glistening moisture he saw before him was not from her bath. She thrust her fingers into his hair to guide his mouth where she wanted it as he spread her folds wide open with both hands. The feeling of being unfurled made Aryana smile in wanton satisfaction. Miran kissed her warm wet center softly then made her start in surprise by blowing on her, causing a raw thrill of sensation, followed by his hot tongue moving over her in slow circles.

He took his time pleasuring her until she was shivering uncontrollably in reaction, always stopping just before her release took her. Exacting a sweet revenge. Finally when she couldn’t even speak to beg him, he laid his tongue flat against her bud licking upwards, a slow, hard, raspy anointing. Miran looked up to watch Aryana’s face as her climax rocking her, one hand clutching in his hair, the other over her mouth to stifle her cries.

She sank to her knees, wrapped safely in his arms and buried her face in his neck as the aftershocks pulsed through her.  Nuzzling the warm spot beneath his ear and licking his salty skin, she inhaled his scent with an intense gratification.

“Ah, Miran” she murmured with contentment and she was his Aryana again. “What brought you to my door?”

It took him a moment to remember. He had just worshiped at the feet of a goddess, his own goddess he hoped and prayed. But he forced himself to return to reality. “I was to escort you to the king’s council. We are late.”

“Hmmm, you are just giving my hair a chance to dry. Women always need prior notice.”

“I’ll remember that. We meet earlier today because Father must unexpectedly attend a funeral.”

After a pause, eyes twinkling, she observed “I see you are still fully present, do you want assistance?”

“No, I consider it a fair punishment.”

“For what?”

“The royal mask you wear now, all the time, even for me. It’s my doing isn’t it?”

Her smile faded. “Self-preservation, yes” Aryana conceded. _But you could strip it off me if you really wanted to._ “You need not suffer, I agreed to the suitors after all. Some of it has been instructive.”

“Aryana, this pain of desire is also a kind of solace. These past weeks my lustful arousals are caused by recollections of long ago, or so it seems. We just made a new memory, one that I will cherish. I like feeling what you do to me.”

She understood. It was better to feel frustrated need than nothing at all. Aryana sighed, not wanting to leave his embrace, “I must dress and do something with my hair. Will you wait? I like it when you watch me.” His smile was a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. It was risky being together like this but having her back again, even for a moment, was too pleasurable to miss. How could he say no?

\---

At the King’s council, knowing Aryana’s preference for frankness, Tus asked her “Will the rapport I see between you and Prince Dadvar be going anywhere?”

Miran crossed has arms and went to stare out a window, afraid of her answer.

“No, he loves another, an insignificant merchant’s daughter Prince Dadvar’s father believes, so he was sent here to take a chance on the last Persian princess.” Miran visibly relaxed and Garsiv snorted. “He has an unfortunate tendency towards bluntness like I do” Aryana grinned. “I have not dismissed him because he has become a welcome friend.”

The king only nodded, accepting her decision. “We still want a new treaty with them, granting rights of trade and passage on their southern road. Any ideas?”

Aryana paused, she was usually quiet during the king’s meetings with the princes, listening to the comprehensive discussions that contributed to taking important decisions. Sometimes they even forgot she was there, an off-color joke or brotherly jest making her smile. But Miran never did and would often glance at her, enjoying her amusement.

Aryana had an idea, but wasn’t sure it would be a welcome one. “Prince Dadvar told me of his kingdom. On the border between you is a small city in the uplands, a beautiful place, green even in the height of summer. His mother came from there. Persia took it long ago for strategic reasons. You could give it back.”

Her suggestion landed like a lightning bolt in the room, the men were all speechless for a moment.

Then Garsiv said, “I know the place, we keep a small garrison there of 50 men I believe, needing no stronger defences.”

King Tus came to give Aryana’s arm a squeeze in thanks and Miran winked at her with a smile.

\---

Aryana and the princes were looking over maps of the borderlands between Persia and Dadvar’s kingdom, it had almost been decided to give back the territory, no real strategic purpose being served anymore. The king, reading correspondence, suddenly shouted a curse and looked at Ronaq with what looked like rage and fear.

“Her brother is trying to annul your marriage to Nareen” he said with horror in his voice.

“No, he can’t - Father, it will kill her!”

“The letter is a subtle probe to find out if we are willing to end it because she wasn’t a virgin.”

Ronaq cursed explicitly. “And next he will try our lack of children before taking the frontal approach of breaking it legally. She has been so afraid of this.” and he put his head in his hands.

Aryana tried quietly to leave the room to give them privacy, and the other princes began to walk to the door as well but Ronaq stopped them. “Please stay” and he looked at Aryana in particular. “We need help, any help that can be given.”

The king told them, Ronaq being too upset to speak of it. “The marriage to Nareen was arranged because of the usual mutual benefits, or so we thought. But a few days before the betrothal would be signed, she came to speak to Ronaq and I, to tell us the truth, because she would not be party to a gross deception. Her brother had been using her from the age of 13, her own father did not discover this crime until she fell pregnant at 16. Her child...” and Tus’ voice cracked “was stillborn. Nareen’s father sent the demon away and hastily arranged a marriage for her.”

Ronaq added “When she told us, it was with an unnatural calm. I was certain she would end her own life to be free of him.” The king nodded his agreement. “I was determined to save her and for a time she seemed to find a healing peace with us. But her father died and the twisted criminal became king and Nareen was convinced he would try to get her back. He has an obsession with her and her alone.”

Aryana felt sick and was heartbroken for them, but she wanted to understand their situation exactly. She went to Ronaq, knelt before him and took his hand. “She cannot stand to be touched?” she asked gently.

“At first, yes. But I encouraged her to talk to me and Dilara as well. Now she and I can share physical affection, but when we try to… she panics, screams, she has even fainted because of the fear. Nareen knows her safety depends on consummating our marriage and producing a child. She has begged me, but I can’t force her, I just can’t, not after what that monster did to her. And now I must, Oh Gods…”

Aryana was encouraged by what he had told her. “Ronaq, I think I can help her. Try to put your fear at the back of your mind. Steadfast, calm support is what she needs from you. Will you take me to her?”

After they had left the others felt more hopeful. King Tus said “We must delay these correspondences, make the negotiation or whatever it is, grind to a halt to give them time. And find out if we have any legal standing to deflect him.”

“If he is as obsessed as she fears, he may try to take her from us.” Garsiv said “The security of the palace is tight but nowhere is impenetrable. She needs Ronaq to be near for her protection.”

“Yes I will end his duties outside the palace.” The king agreed. “And if the fiend pushes us toward war, many innocent people would die, her people and ours. Nareen wouldn’t let that happen. We can’t let it come to that. I begin to see why the old kings found the Hassansins so useful. What an infuriating quagmire!”

As soon as Nareen saw Ronaq she knew something was wrong. “My brother?” she whispered in fear.

Ronaq held her and told her about the letter. Her calm acceptance was chilling to witness. In time Nareen noticed that Aryana stood nearby.

“Aryana is here to help us.” Ronaq told her.

She took Nareen’s hand, “I will teach you how to control the panic.” and Aryana had them sit on the carpet with her. “This technique is a way to clear the mind, direct your thoughts, to separate the mind from the impulses of the body by conscious breathing and concentration.

“Now,” Aryana began quietly “Close your eyes, become aware of the sounds around you, the fountain, the children laughing, your own heartbeat.”

Slowly Aryana guided them through the exercise. “Focus on your heartbeat now and slow your breathing, breath deeply, slowly and deliberately in and out, in and out. Hear your heartbeat slowing down.”

“Yes, Nareen that is good, now your mind is clear and calm, aware but not troubled. Think of something or someone or someplace that makes you feel safe.”

“Ronaq” she whispered to herself and she smiled.

“Think of that which creates fear in you.”

Nareen began to lose her composure. “Control your breath, in and out, concentrate on your heartbeat,  Force your mind back to Ronaq.” And she became calm again. “Now open your eyes. Nareen, you have done incredibly well, I have no doubt it will work. You must practice this meditation, every time putting more stress on your mind, until you can control your response even as you think of your worst fears or memories. I shall come to you everyday to guide you as long as you need me to.” To Ronaq she said. “You should be there as well. You saw when her control began to fail? She might need you to help bring her back, as I did.”

Nareen came to her gratefully, “Thank you Aryana, I am heartened to have a way to fight him at last.” Ronaq took her hand briefly in thanks and Aryana left them to return to the library.

“Meditation?” Miran asked when she rejoined them.

“Yes, she has tremendous self-control and has learned the technique already. They just need time.”

\---

The nightly banquets with the suitors were becoming too tedious for words. Miran had been absent that night claiming royal duties and she was angry about it. She managed to slip out early to return to her room when the vain king caught her. Before she knew it, the man twisted one of her arms behind her back and took her into a suffocating embrace, kissing her wetly with what he probably thought was arousing passion. His cloying perfume was making her nauseous, she began to worry that she might actually vomit all over him. Still she couldn’t break his hold on her without causing offence which, knowing him, could easily escalate into a political incident. The stupid, egotistical man didn’t even notice her rigid body and lack of response. Aryana saw someone over the brute’s shoulder moving toward them, her eyes narrowed on Miran. She gestured with her free hand, asking him to intervene. Understanding that she really needed to be rescued, Miran feigned drunkenness, and bumped into them unceremoniously.

“My pardon, your Highness, I didn’t see you there.” he slurred convincingly. The kiss broke apart and Miran saw Aryana wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, making him grimace in sympathy.

“How dare you, you cretin” he yelled in a rage and tried to strike Miran. He easily dodged the blow but made it look like an accident, maintaining his drunken performance. This happened a few more times until the king, confused by his lack of success, stalked away, Aryana completely forgotten.

“Ugh, he is foul, disgusting, repulsive ...” Her temper was getting the better of her and she spat at Miran furiously. “This is all your fault! Kiss me Miran. Now. Make me forget him or I swear I will make you regret it!” and she dug her fingers into his linen tunic to pull him to her, dragging his mouth to hers.

Aryana pushed her hands under his shirt, scratching his back lightly with her nails, tearing her mouth free to run her open mouth down his neck and bite him softly on the shoulder. Pressuring his self-control until finally Miran took over, lifting her up to straddle him and pinned her to the wall, taking her mouth again. The kiss was uncontrolled, elemental, he ground their bodies together and Aryana whimpered with need. Their mouths crashed into each other, their abstinence feeding the desperation they both felt. Miran was tearing at her clothing, exposing her breasts, ripping the fabric to reach her center and plunge into her. And then he heard voices coming toward them and came to his senses. Holding her still, Miran ducked into a dark shadow, waiting for them to pass, Aryana pushing at him until he let her go.

Miran watched her try to cover herself with her torn clothing, a bitter combination of shame and frustration made him sneer, “Did I make you forget him?”

Aryana found she was still furious with him and unbearably aroused as well.  So she struck out, wanting to hurt him, “And who will make me forget you?” she snarled, before stalking off herself.

Miran watched her go, sick with remorse. He had pushed her into this farce with the suitors and they were both suffering for it, but Aryana most of all. He couldn’t leave it like this and followed after her.

She had stopped in the rose garden outside her chamber, looking absently into a deep pool that reflected the moon, trying to regain her poise.

“Aryana, I’m so sorry” he murmured quietly, hesitantly touching her cheek.

“No apologies Miran. You managed to show me something else about myself. I can be vicious when I lose my temper.” She smiled wryly.

“You have every right to be furious with me.” He was surprised she sounded so calm and considered her words. “You have never flown into a rage before?”

“How could I? My father would always make me laugh and my mother would remind me that a sovereign must always govern her emotions. You know, he goads her into a temper sometimes. I think she enjoys it” with a small laugh.

“Am I forgiven for my own assault on you? I am very ashamed, the way I tore your dress off you...”

Aryana took his hand to reassure him. “Miran, you did what I asked of you. It was overwhelming and deliciously abandoned. I was angry because you stopped.”

“But it must be so.”

“I know” she sighed.

With regret in his voice, Miran changed the subject “I was coming to tell you that Sheik Amar sent a message that the Roman has resurfaced. I will go to the Valley with Taimur tomorrow to discover what he is up to. I don’t know how long I will be away.”

Aryana felt her heart clench painfully, but didn’t let it show on her face. Duty came first, it would not help him to see her cry about it. “Is there a place we can be alone before you have to go?”

Miran nodded. Time with her was precious and it was worth the risk. “Change into warmer clothes, I will wait here for you.”

When she discarded her torn dress she was amazed and gratified by the depth of his desire for her, he was so close to taking her in that corridor and she almost wished he had. Miran would never have forgiven himself though. On a whim she cut off a loose piece of the blue and silver trim of her ruined dress, and took it with her.

Miran brought her to his own rooms on the other side of the garden from hers. Aryana looked around curiously as Marin gathered pillows and blankets which he took up a flight of stairs, she assumed to a chamber above them. His room was full of his possessions but tidy, many scrolls and some books which she went to examine, many of them were written in Greek and a few in Latin. A lute leant in a corner and two sets of armour stood ready, one obviously Persian, the other carefully nondescript and she tied her ribbon to it on a concealed clasp. She heard a meow of greeting from the garden terrace and a large grey cat with long, soft hair sauntered in.

“This is Finna” Miran said as he picked her up. Aryana approached carefully, holding out a finger for the cat to sniff before stroking her head and he smiled. “She doesn’t usually let anyone touch her but me.” 

“It's probably because she can smell you all over me” with a mischievous smile, making him laugh.

He set Finna carefully on the bed and drew Aryana to the staircase which climbed up to a flat roof. “This is where I study the night sky when I have time. We can look up at the stars and pretend we are still in the desert together.”

They settled into the makeshift bed hand in hand with their heads close together, the moon was setting and the stars were becoming brighter.

Finna came and curled up on Mirans chest, purring loudly “Does she not miss you when you are away?”

“I don’t know if she cares for me or only allows me to share her territory when I am home. I often come back to a room full of kittens. Little lions, they drive me mad, but I miss them when they grow up and leave us. Now and then one of her children will visit, but it is usually just her and me.”

After a companionable silence Miran asked, “Besides the accursed suitors, do you like it here?”

“Alamut will seem very quiet and rather lonely in comparison. My parents are wonderful but their relationship with each other sometimes makes me feel shut out. I wish I had siblings, but the Gods usually give the High Priestess only one child, a daughter of course. There have been a few male children, younger brothers, but only rarely.”

“The Gods control your life to such an extent, how can you believe that?”

“We don’t believe it, we know it. The Gods have a destiny planned for the High Priestess and to a lesser extent they take an active interest in the people whose lives will touch ours. Knowing we have a destiny does not make it any easier to walk the path unfortunately. When we go astray, the Gods send messages in our dreams, my mother told me they can be unnecessarily cryptic. I have not yet had such a vision so I must be doing what they want.”

“My father said you protect something with a terrible power in Alamut.” Miran rubbed the symbol on her palm, hoping she would confide in him a little more.

She did not deny it, giving a tacit acknowledgement that it was true. “We are called Guardians and are made up of a small group of court insiders, following their own lines of succession, but since my parents are true partners, my father was made a Guardian as well. This new role for the Prince Consort is viewed in Alamut as an improvement, there is greater strength in two. The previous monarchs led rigid lives, and often lonely ones and their children also. My parents resolved to do things differently. The only question was whether a hero could be found for me as well and I decided to choose my own.”

“A hero, is that how you see me?” he asked, stunned.

“Oh yes, a hero at the very least, but I know you now, you are much more than that. “Do you want me to name your many virtues?” She teased “Or would it embarrass you.” She began, “Intelligent, wise, patient, kind, protective, generous, beautiful, seductive…”

“Stop, stop!” laughing, and he kissed her to shut her up. Finna rather grumpy that her bed had moved out from under her so abruptly, slunk away. The kiss turned from playful to passionate to bittersweet.

“Modest,” she whispered solemnly, “and my very best friend.”

He took a deep breath at her words, feeling like he was falling off a cliff. “I love you Aryana.”

“And I love you Miran” with absolute certainty in her heart.


	6. Sweet Sorrow

Miran and Taimur left early the next morning, Aryana didn’t watch him depart. He had woken her before dawn and she watched as he dressed and gathered the few things he would take with him. They both felt a deep melancholy at this parting, when they had finally dared to declare their true feelings for each other. She helped him don his armour, and when he saw her ribbon, his eyes moistened with emotion. In sadness they crossed the garden to her chamber, sharing a last sweet kiss.

The following days she felt rather aimless, she helped Nareen with the meditation exercises but she really didn’t need guidance anymore. There came a day not long after when Nareen greeted her with a broad, proud smile and a heartfelt hug. “I even enjoyed it a little,” she confessed, “Ronaq is so relieved and assures me it will get better, which I do not doubt. Dilara has given all her nights to me so we may conceive as soon as possible.” 

Aryana walked into the king’s council to hear manly shouts of congratulations and she swiftly snuck back out the door. But Ronaq sought her out later. “The Gods must be benevolent to send you to us when we most needed you.” Their happiness was wonderful to witness, and she didn’t say what she was thinking. That the Gods were not known for being compassionate and a whimsical thought came into her head that one of their descendents would marry one of hers someday.

After a week keeping mainly to herself, she heard King Zoltan was feeling unwell. Golnar told her he had been using a foul concoction to make his hair sleeker and became violently ill.  So she dared to attend the banquet that night and noticed a definite lack of suitors. Prince Dadvar, Princess Tigran and her brother were there but no one else outside the family. She arched her brow at Shahzore and he guessed what she was thinking. 

“Miran told us before he departed that the suitors were more trouble than they were worth,” with a cheeky grin. “Would it be presumptuous of me to assume a contract should be written? He said I should ask you.”

Aryana found herself flush, but answered with dignity that she thought it was a good idea. 

“Excellent. Miran left instructions on the wording.”

“Have you heard anything from him?” She asked quietly, knowing sending messages was risky, so would be kept to a minimum. 

“Not yet” he answered with sympathy. “On another topic, father would like to meet with Prince Dadvar, would you bring him with you to our council tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’ll go ask him now.”

Dadvar greeted the request with wary curiosity. “I will not be offered your hand will I?” 

Aryana smiled “No, we both know a marriage between us would have been agreeable…”

“But nothing more.”

The next day at the council, Dadvar was stunned by the terms given him to make a new treaty with the Persian Empire. Before he said anything, he turned to give Aryana an admiring look which she returned with a tiny smug smile. His father would grant him anything with this triumph of the return of their ancestral lands. 

“Prince Dadvar do you have the authority to negotiate such a treaty with us?” King Tus asked him.

“Yes Highness, I do.”

\---

Deep in the night, Aryana awoke. She had been dreaming of Miran and found that she was wet and aroused. Tentatively, she touched her breasts and moved her hands over her body, trying to pretend it was him, stimulating herself as he had shown her. Her climax arrived finally but it felt joyless and hollow and she cried into her pillow, making no sound.

Unable to sleep she went to Miran’s rooms, hoping to find comfort there. Finna was spread out on the bed and allowed Aryana entry by ignoring her. She lay down next to the cat, soothed by Miran’s scent on the bedclothes, and slept.

The next days Aryana spent more time in Miran’s chamber, reading his scrolls, playing the lute and becoming more friendly with Finna. He would have to leave her behind as well she thought sadly, guilt returning with a vengeance. One day she surprised a manservant who had entered to tidy-up. She apologized profusely, feeling like an interloper, but the man assured her that she had every right to be there. 

Don’t I know you from Prince Miran’s journey from Alamut?”

“Yes, Princess. I am Nahro and belong to the Prince Miran’s personal household, but his task now must be done without servants. I come here twice a week to clean, the rest I may spend with my family in the city. I will come more often if you wish it.”

“No Nahro I do not need to be looked after and I will try not to make extra work for you.”

“You are all kindness my lady.” After a pause “Princess Laleh comes here as well sometimes, Prince Miran loans her his books when he is away.”

“Thank you for the warning.” she smiled.

And Princess Laleh did come, entering without warning and was taken aback to see Aryana there with Finna on her lap. The cat gave a slight growl and left. 

“Please, Nahro said you often come to exchange books.” trying to be friendly with the woman, but Laleh was always so aloof. “I will leave if you prefer.” 

“Do you pine for him?” she asked scornfully.

“I do miss him, yes.” Aryana felt strangely troubled by her question and the way she asked it.

“So it is true, you are to wed. I must congratulate you then” she said coldly and left abruptly. 

A very unhappy woman, Aryana thought. I wonder why. She was clearly not content in her marriage. It could be she felt something for Miran, but Aryana was observant and she had never noticed Laleh showing any warmth or interest towards him either. But she was disturbed in her heart and promised to pay more attention when the Laleh showed herself at family gatherings. 

The next day they received their first message from Miran and Taimur. The spy of Koshkahn was in fact no longer working for him but was representing a large company of mercenaries. The Roman was hiring the mercenaries to harry the Imperial Road to draw Persia’s attention away from a, as of yet unknown, target. It was decided to send Varten and Baaz with a company of the army to meet up with the other two princes and eliminate the threat. When the Roman had left the Valley of the Slaves, Miran sent some of his spies after the man to discover his ultimate goal. 

“It is something Miran would have enjoyed doing himself not long ago, but his mind and heart are elsewhere.” the king commented dryly, with a wink for Aryana.  

\---

Forty days after the Miran’s departure, King Tus told her at dinner, “I have just heard from a messenger, they will be home tonight.” 

Aryana found herself in a state of dazed anticipation. She did not want to wait until tomorrow morning to see him again, probably with all their family present, keeping them from speaking freely. Aryana resolved to greet him on her own that night. The best chance of meeting him alone would be the stables, so after nightfall she donned a dark cloak, and with the stable-masters permission, found a concealed place to sit and wait. They came after midnight, the men talking and joking quietly. She watched them in the torchlight, tired and dirty from their long ride that day. Miran’s beard had grown back, a darker shade than his hair. He was wearing armour and had a bandaged wound on his arm. When only the four princes remained, after they had seen to their own horses, Aryana stood and stepped into the light. 

“Princess!” Baaz said, startled and Miran turned quickly toward her but stood transfixed, their eyes feasting on each other. The princes left quickly, exchanging smiles. When they were alone, Aryana came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest, absorbing the feel of him. 

“I missed you” she said simply.

Miran pulled her tightly to him, cheek resting on her dark head. He was home. “Shall we sign the marriage contract tomorrow?”

Aryana looked up at him, joy and love in her radiant smile. “Yes.”


	7. Home

They went together to Miran’s rooms and found Nahro waiting for him. “Prince, Princess” he greeted with a bow. “Food and a bath has been prepared, is there anything else you require?” Miran gave him thanks and he departed.

“You have met Nahro?”

“I have been spending time here, he and Finna made me feel welcome. What would you like first, food or bath?” There was no question that she would stay with him. “Or perhaps both, I will serve you as maidens did the kings of old” she offered with a seductive smile.

Miran was tired and liked the idea very much, so he let himself be attended to. Aryana began to remove his armour, being careful to avoid his injured arm. “Is it a bad wound?”

“No, almost healed now. The bandage was mostly to keep it clean. Koshkahn’s former spy didn’t like to be questioned; he was more skilled than I expected.” Seeing her interest in his tale, Miran continued “After I subdued him finally, the answers I sought were not forthcoming until I offered to give him back to Koshkahn. He talked then, told us what he knew of the Roman’s plan, and where the mercenary camp would be found. When we arrived in force they sensibly agreed to leave Persian territory, never to return.”

Aryana carefully removed the bandage. The cut, probably from a knife, had closed well, the scar would be a faint one she thought. She removed his clothes swiftly, not wanting to tempt him. “Get in the bath and I’ll bring your meal to you.”

The bathing room was a small, tiled chamber with a high ceiling, lit with torches and a small brazier, with a round, deep pool in the center. As he sat on the underwater shelf, the water coming up to his chest, Miran sighed as he slipped into the hot water. Aryana came with the food and sat at the edge. She gave him a cup of wine and offered him bites of food as he leant back with his head in her lap and his eyes closed.

“The kings of old must have been very happy men” he remarked lazily.

Looking like he was about to fall asleep, Aryana made him move off her and Miran gave her a teasing grumble, not bothering to open his eyes. “Wet your head, my lord” she ordered. With her legs dipped in the water next to him, she tilted his head back and began to wash his hair. No woman had ever done this for him before and Miran found it both relaxing and arousing, her hands massaging his scalp, neck and shoulders. She turned him around, and carefully washed his face as well, lingering over the planes of his cheeks and jaw. She appreciated the new sensation of his beard, tickling and rough under her fingers.

“I admit, it gives you a virile appeal” she murmured, tugging at it gently. “But you are so beautiful without it.”

Miran felt himself flush at her words and huffed in embarrassment. “You know you are the only one who is able to make me blush don’t you? I feel like a callow youth.”  

Aryana laughed and gave his head a little push to indicate that it was time to rinse off.

“That box next to the brazier holds my shaving knife, bring it to me and I’ll get rid of it.”

Aryana rose and took out the knife, testing its edge before handing it to him. But then she paused, a half-smile curving her lips. “I’m sure the kings of old never shaved themselves. May I?”

“I could get used to this” he warned. “Will the monarch of Alamut have the time to serve her husband at his bath?”

“Don’t worry, my love. I will always have time to please my consort. In whatever way you desire.” Seeing his eyes darken at her words, Aryana smirked. “Now shut your mouth so I can begin.”

Aryana gathered a few other things she knew she would need, having watched her father shave off a full beard whenever he returned home after a long absence. In the box she found a comb, a whetstone and a small pot containing soap that smelled like sandalwood. Smelled like him.

Aryana sat before him by the pool again, applied the frothy soap and drew the knife carefully down along the grain of his beard, cutting it to a stubble. Watching her was intoxicating; the rise and fall of her breasts, her lips parted in concentration, her touch on his face. Satisfied with her progress, she resharpened the blade, reapplied the soap and pushed him to turn around with a soft smile on her face.

“Come, lean against me” Aryana whispered in his ear, pulling his back to her, caging his hips between her thighs. Lifting his chin in the palm of her hand, she stretched the skin taught and took the rest of his beard, drawing a finger after the knife to feel if it was smooth enough. Miran sighed and melted against her. 

Aryana caressed the planes of his face with a pleased hum, turning him to face her. “There you are. Now for a last dip,” urging his head underwater again.

Emerging clean of soap, Miran opened his eyes and saw that Aryana’s clothing had gotten wet in places, the thin cloth transparent, and he could see a shadow of her full breast, a hard nipple. His relaxed mood changed to fire in the blink of an eye. Deliberately, with anticipation in his smile, he pulled her dress down over her shoulders to expose her breasts. She made a sound in between a squeal and a gasp as he took them in his wet hands and kissed her deeply before trailing his open mouth down her neck, hot and demanding. Aryana moaned with want and pleasure, reveling in the unbearably sweet ache at her core that he so easily induced.

Miran felt her arousal taking hold. He could smell the delicious scent of her desire and growled deep in his throat and he reclaimed her lips in a deep, hard kiss, crushing her against his chest. Suddenly he needed to touch her everywhere, her sodden dress an annoying barrier.

“Tear it off” she whispered into his mouth. He did. Then he grasped her by the waist, pulling her hips to the pool’s edge and spread her legs wide before his hungry gaze. Holding her open with one hand, the other caressing a breast, Miran took her wet folds in his mouth, his tongue hot and ravenous. Her body heavy and swollen with arousal, Aryana fell back on the cool marble floor as he devoured her. It took only moments before she felt ecstasy coming to take her. “Miran! Miran, I love you” she moaned through the tremors that pulsed through her from deep within.

Miran left the pool, smiling down at her and quickly dried himself with a towel. “I wanted to dry you” Aryana complained halfheartedly.

“Next time.”

She looked up at him with satisfaction, “You have shattered me again, I will need help to stand.” Miran pulled her to her feet and picked her up to carry her to bed, where they pleasured each other until exhaustion overcame them.

In the morning she awoke before him, giving her time to enjoy looking at him. _Miran loves me, he is finally home and we are to marry_.  Aryana relished the deep contentment she felt. She knew she should let him sleep, but the urge to touch him was becoming hard to ignore. Yet when she tried to leave the bed quietly, Miran said without opening his eyes, “Where are you going?”

“How long have you been awake?” she laughed.

“You seemed to be deep in thought, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Provocatively, “I was thinking that as much as I enjoy the erotic games we play with each other, I want you to take me fully and I’m not sure what will come first, the wedding or the wedding night. Would it be so bad to anticipate the ceremony? It will take ages for the arrangements to be made.”

Miran’s mouth went dry at her straightforward eagerness and he felt himself harden at the thought. They lay together naked in his bed and it was a miracle they hadn’t broken that most important moral tenant already.  

“I could go away again until the preparations are ready.” He offered lamely, an apologetic look on his face.

“No! But I can see you refuse to defile me, alas. Such a noble prince” she teased him. “Let us at least sign the contract. When will it be allowed do you think?”

“I have a feeling everyone will already be assembled to witness the occasion.”

“But Miran,” she laughed, “I have nothing to wear. You’ll have to get some clothes from my room.”

He got up to pull a shirt from his saddlebag. “When we passed through Avrat during our errand, I bought this for you.” Wrapped carefully inside was a lovely pale blue dress embroidered with flowers of silver. “To replace the one I ruined.”

“It’s beautiful Miran, thank you” as she held it up.

“Now I have to find another worthy of you” he smiled ruefully. And for the pure intimate pleasure of it, he helped her dress and combed her long, dark hair.

Indeed all the family was already in attendance and waiting for them, Marin’s mother had cut her visit with Miran’s sister short to be there. Only Hesam and his family, who were still with the army, and Laleh were not present. When they had signed the two scrolls, one for his family, one for hers, Miran picked Aryana up by the waist and twirled her around, laughing with pure joy.


	8. Varten and Tigran

As the family congratulated the happy couple, King Tus drew Vartan aside.

“There is a Princess here I want you to meet. But she is an exceptional woman and I don’t want her to be toyed with.”

“You doubt whether I am good enough for her” he said somewhat defensively.

“Not exactly, there is a certain maturity required to recognize and appreciate what is right in front of you.”

“What is her name?” Vartan asked without enthusiasm.

“Princess Tigran from Balkh, here with her brother Isaad. They came to visit often when their father was alive, perhaps you remember her.”

“Tiger?” Vartan murmured. And he did. A girl who dressed as a boy so she could climb peach trees with ease, throwing the ripe fruit down to the royal children and her brother far below. She joined him and Baaz in taking dares or doing crazy pranks. One had gone badly wrong, he had spilled paint all over the newly tiled floor of a garden pavilion and she had gotten rid of the evidence, hiding his paint covered shirt while he escaped. He remembered that she had been fearless.

Varten turned to the room at large. “Does anyone know where I may find Princess Tigran?” but then he had an idea and went to the fruit orchard just inside the palace wall. He saw her not far away, leaning on the trunk of a tree, looking up through the branches to the blue sky until he walked toward her and she straightened, startled at his sudden appearance.

“Prince Varten, you have returned, was your journey agreeable?” she winced inwardly at this boring convention.

But he smiled warmly and said “Hello again Tiger.”  _ She is lovely _ he thought, her red brown hair falling down her back in fat curls and her warm brown eyes, which had looked too large for her when she was a girl, had an exotic tilt to them making her look incredibly sultry. 

“You remember me then.” As they considered each other, she took in his dark blond hair like his mother’s and she hadn’t remembered that his eyes were a stormy grey. 

“How could I forget? You saved my life once.” Tigran laughed, and the husky sound sent a pleasurable shiver up his spine. “Do you still climb trees?”

“I haven’t climbed a tree in years” she sighed with regret. She waited for him to speak and he thought, given their childhood friendship, a direct approach would be a good idea.

“Princess Tigran, I have been instructed to make myself available to you.”

She looked at him warily, biting her full lower lip. “Do you hate the idea Prince Varten?” she asked tentatively.

“To my surprise, I do not. The quickest way to see if we are compatible is to try a kiss. Do you dare?” 

Tigran laughed at his reference to the games they had played and nodded, coming to him with composure. His heart began to pound in anticipation and for the first time in his life he was afraid his kisses might be found wanting. Watching her intently, he put his hand to her waist and drew her slowly to him, carefully but firmly held her chin in the palm of his hand and lowered his lips to hers. 

When he touched her waist, Tigran began to tremble, the slow deliberation of it made her feel light-headed. And he hadn’t even kissed her yet. She gasped when his lips touched hers and instinctively opened her mouth to his tongue swept over her bottom lip and a careful kiss turned into a passionate one. His hand on her cheek went to the back of her neck, fingers buried in her hair, forcing the kiss deeper, his arm tight around her waist. He reveled in the feel of her soft hair tangled in his fingers and her voluptuous breasts pressed to his chest, she was moaning into his mouth with her husky voice and he was losing control. Breaking off the kiss before he lost his head completely, Vartan watched her open dazed, unfocused eyes, her breathing ragged like his own. 

“Varten…” she whispered in amazement.

“We are getting married” he said with conviction. Her mouth fell open in surprise. “Aren’t we” he pressed for an answer. 

Tigran saw the clear certainty in Varten’s eyes and murmured in wonder, “Yes. Yes we are.” 

They went to her brother first. Tigran still felt dazed, but Vartan was calm and relaxed as he formally asked her brother for her hand. Isaad was pleased for her, knowing it was what she wanted and the three of them went to join the family who were still celebrating the betrothal of Aryana and Miran. Varten had only been gone an hour and he was looking forward to the commotion they were about to cause. He knew his brother wouldn’t mind if he and Tigran distracted their family’s attention. Miran had not been enjoying their avid interest in his private affairs, judging by his reaction to the teasing his brothers and cousins had put him through. Varten paused by the door and told her “We are going to shock them, take courage” giving her a wicked smile. And she laughed her throaty laugh which made him grin all the wider.

When they entered, hand in hand, Varten caught his father’s eye. Many noticed the shock on King Tus’s face, the room stilled and they turned to the door as one.

“I am happy to tell you that Princess Tigran has done me the honor to accept my proposal of marriage.” and he laughed at their stunned faces as he turned to her and kissed her cheek.

There was silence, everyone waited for the king to speak. “Varten, I only asked you an hour ago to meet her. Are you playing some sort of childish game?” 

Varten looked down at Tigran and spoke directly to her, so none could doubt his sincerity. “You were one of my best friends when we were children, I admired you enormously. You stir me more than anyone I have ever met and I feel with all my heart and soul that we are meant to be together.” And Tigran smiled tearily up at him, knowing it was true.

“Well in that case” said Miran loudly, “Congratulations!” running over to hug his brother and kiss his new sister’s hand. 

The king came smiling in relief with their mother Kyrah and she said “When you find the right one, why waste time?”

\---

In Alamut, Dastan brought a message to Tamina that had just arrived from the king. “They have signed a contract” he told her, smiling. Tamina opened the scroll and read it.

“It is ours, word for word!” she laughed, happy and relieved. 

“This letter from Aryana was enclosed as well.”

“Letter? It only says ‘We wish to marry as soon as possible.’” 

And ‘Love and gratitude from your daughter’” he pointed out. “They could have an informal family wedding in Nasaf before enduring that long drawn-out ordeal we went through.”

“You mean the ceremony to consecrate our sacred joining” she corrected him absently. “Yes, a good idea. I will ask Zolm to guard the dagger while we are away. Even though he loves her as a daughter, and he would never admit it, a wedding would not interest him.”

“How you ever got him to agree to become a Guardian, I’ll never know.”

“I can be very persuasive” Tamina said smugly.

\---

Soon after, Shahzore told Aryana at a council meeting. “We have a message from Alamut for you Princess.” 

As she read it her eyes locked on Miran and she gave him a brilliant smile. “My parents suggest a family wedding for us here in Nasaf. They will arrive in 10 days with our friends and collect Sheik Amar and Seso on the way. She came to wrap her arms around his neck. “It seems we can set a date, shall we say 15 days from today?” 

“Thank the Gods!” His relief was heartfelt and everyone chuckled. 

“We will still have a wedding as a state occasion in Alamut” she warned, but it didn’t trouble him.

“It was good of them to take pity on us.”

“I think it must have been my father’s idea. He complains to this day about their own wedding.”

“It was extremely tedious” agreed Garsiv.

Varten, who had to wait for a state occasion of his own and was keenly feeling the pain of anticipation, was envious. “Father?” he asked plaintively.

“No, Varten.”

\---

Later that evening Varten sat with his back against a tree in the orchard, Tigran sitting between his legs leaning against his warm chest. They were spending hours together in their favorite place as children, talking and trying not to get lost in their kisses.

“We will sign our contract tomorrow, I was thinking about adding the one-wife clause.”

“What is that?” Tigran turned in his arms to look at him.

“It is a pledge not to take more wives. Miran saw that our uncle Dastan put it his contract and was happy to do the same. He can’t stand the thought of touching another woman besides his Aryana.”

“It is very soon for you to be making such a commitment,” she considered. “We don’t know each other that well yet, we only have faith that we will be happy as husband and wife. You would be doing it to please me?” Varten shrugged. “You need not on my account. Did your father tell you why he so generously offered you to me?” 

“I assumed it was because he likes you.”

“I persuaded my brother to come here to pursue my own ends. I told the king quite boldly that I wanted a place in your family. And that includes the admirable women who joined it before me and I’m sure those that come after. And like all of them, I was brought up expecting to share my husband.” 

But then she paused, gazing silently at him for a long moment, “On the other hand, I have your full attention now” she mused softly, “how would I feel if I didn’t?” A tiny frown appeared between her brows and at the corners of her mouth and Varten kissed her until it went away. 


	9. Starry Night

Two days later Miran drew Aryana away during the morning meal to whisper in her ear “Will you go for a ride with me tonight? I have a surprise for you.”

Aryana smiled. “Where? When?”

“Meet me just after dark at the fish ponds by the northern wall, one of our hidden doors is there. It would be best if no one sees us leaving. Try to be surreptitious.”

“You mean sneaky like a spy?” which earned her a smirk. “Should I bring anything with me?” trying to tease a hint out of him about where they would be going.

“Just yourself” and he kissed her lightly on the nose.

As he had asked, Aryana did her best to move out of the palace to the place of their meeting without being observed. When she approached the shallow pools it was quite dark, she feared she might fall into one. As she paused to let her eyes adjust to the darkness, Aryana felt an arm circle her waist from behind.

“It’s me” Miran whispered in her ear with a small lick. “We must be quiet until out of earshot of the guard.” He took her hand and guided them easily toward the hidden door in the wall, which opened silently with a key. Once outside, they walked out into the field of chickpeas that surrounded the outer wall. After a short time a tethered horse appeared out of the darkness. Miran mounted, pulling her up to sit before him.

“I have never ridden with the object of my desire. This will be distracting,” he murmured as he kneaded a breast and nuzzled her neck, “but very pleasant.”

“Mmmm...ahh” was the only response Aryana could make.

After a short, and very erotic ride, Miran told her “We are on the hunting estate where Amar’s birds live. We actually call it the Ostrich Villa. Just a moment.” He dismounted and lit a torch, bringing her to a open grassy spot ringed by lemon trees. There were carpets put down in a circle with a large bedroll, big enough for two, in the middle covered with cushions and furs.

“My teacher predicted there will be a shower of stars tonight. I thought you would like to see it.” He took her in his arms, looking down at her with a secret smile. “And since we will be married soon, this plan came to me. Court weddings, even family ones, are boisterous affairs. Too much food, too much wine. I want to have our wedding night here. Now.”

Aryana drew in a shaky breath, “Miran this will be perfect.”

Miran kissed her with sweet tenderness, but already aroused by Miran’s roaming hands while they rode, Aryana pushed her hands aggressively under his clothes, her fingers frantic for his bare skin. She felt Miran’s muscles clench in reaction and he laughed huskily.

“Wait, wait my love. Only one more time with rules, If I lose control tonight it will cause you more discomfort than necessary. Let me take care of you.” Aryana gave him a playful pout but stood still before him, letting him bare her body to the warm night. As he removed her clothes with caresses and lingering kisses, she felt herself floating in a sea of sensation. The soft furs on her back, his rough hands kneading her breasts then his mouth sucking her nipples into hard peaks. And all the while he whispered in her ear or against her skin or into her mouth words of love and desire.

"I have longed for this moment, to make you truly mine. I want to be inside you, Aryana. I need to feel your tight wetness around me, I want to disappear into you, to be completely joined with you, to be one person, one flesh."

Aryana squirmed and panted, lost in his voice, in his words and his hands. So close already that when he touched her swollen bud with the tip of his tongue, she dissolved into a quivering puddle.

“I love you” Miran murmured, his voice shaking as he covered her body with his, rubbing the tip of his erection through her slickness, nudging her gently. She gasped in pleasure, opening her legs for him and he guided himself carefully into her. As he thrust slowly and firmly little by little, stretching her, she relished the wondrous awareness of him filling her completely.

“Are you alright?” he ground out, finding it difficult to speak, the effort of holding still within her tight heat taking every bit of control he possessed.

It took her a moment to gather her thoughts. “There was a bit of discomfort, a kind of burning sensation but it is gone now. I feel so full, I can feel you throbbing inside me” she whispered.

Miran groaned and he let himself down to rest against her body, to cover her as he kissed her tenderly “May I?”

She embraced him around the waist, reveling in the solid weight of him on top of her and moaned “Yes” and he began slowly, slowly to move, rocking into her with the gentle force of his love. At first with a mellow cadence, making her gasp at every thrust, until she lifted her hips to meet him, joining his rhythm, deepening the sweet penetration. An almost unbearable heat grew in her, a wanton need and she grasped his hips, urging him to give her more.

“Look at me” he commanded.

And she opened her eyes to see his face stark with hunger as he lifted her legs around his waist and drove into her fast and deep and her mouth opened in a silent scream. With each hard thrust Miran pushed her closer and closer and she ground against him as she unraveled, her climax a sweet piercing surge of pleasure that went on and on and on.

He watched her shuddering beneath him, felt her walls spasm around him and followed her over the edge. Letting go in one overwhelming wave of pure bliss, his hips jerking spasmodically as he emptied himself into her. Everything he had, everything he was, he gave it all to her in that moment as he felt the release in every part his body. He gasped for breath and Aryana hugged him tightly with her arms and legs wrapped around him, smoothing her hands over his back and through his hair, kissing his neck.

“My husband” she said as a vow.

Miran raised his head to kiss her. “My wife.”

And the torch went out. They lay holding each other, watching in awe as the stars burned and sparkled across the sky, a heavenly marvel, until the spectacle slowed and finally ended. They rode back to the palace before the light of dawn reached them and carefully made their way to Aryana’s chamber to sleep late into the afternoon.


	10. Malign Legacy

It was two days later when the palace woke to a scream.

“Guard! Guard!” Dilara cried. She stood outside the slightly open door of Nareen’s room and could see the dead bodies of the two guardsmen that watched over her since her brother began making threats. Ronaq had been with her and Dilara was afraid what she would find inside. Forcing herself to move, she opened the door and gave a moan of dread. Ronaq lay on the floor, two knives embedded in his shoulder, a bloody sword in his hand.  Nareen wasn’t there.

Dilara knelt next to her husband and felt that he was warm; he lived. The guards who ran in after her took in Ronaq laying in a pool of blood but also the bodies of four of his attackers that had fallen to his blade. Suddenly the room was full of people, the king, Garsiv, Baaz, Taimur. Arsia, Shahzore and Golnar came and she directed that Ronaq be moved to the bed so she could examine him, Dilara sitting at his side.

“He has lost a lot of blood but these injuries can not explain why he is unconscious. Either the knives are poisoned or he has been drugged. Send to the hospital for the Master, we need his expertise. Look for food or drink and bring it to me.” No food was found, only uneaten fruit but there was a carafe of wine and Golnar gave it a sniff. “This may be something, it smells too sweet” she said. “Please everyone, he lives, but I need room to work. One or two may stay to assist me.”

Just then, some of the children tried to enter and Arsia went to lead them away, Ronaq’s mother Shaima and Dilara stayed to help the healers and the king and princes left after, shutting the door behind them.

Garsiv said grimly “It must be her brother, they will try to reach his kingdom as soon as possible, we must follow quickly, they have at least a 6 hour head start. I will make the preparations.”

“And send Hesam and the army to the border in case we must besiege them” Tus seethed.

The physicians came and the family all stood around outside, waiting for news. Baaz appeared with Varten and Tigran who he had found sleeping in each other’s arms under a peach tree. Finally Golnar came out to tell them “We gave him the antidote Mithridate, and he is awake but we are still working on the knife wounds. You can speak with him soon.” Everyone let out their breath in relief. Golnar paused, her voice grave. “You should know that Nareen is with child. Around two months I think.”

“Go with Garsiv to find Nareen,” Tus ordered the princes and as they left, he put his head in his hands with worry for her. He sat down and suddenly looked up at Kyrah. “Where is Miran?”

Freema went to his rooms to get him, but something was wrong. His door stood ajar and Laleh was sitting next to a sleeping Miran in his bed. “Laleh?” she asked, afraid. Miran wasn’t moving.

“He won’t wake up” Laleh said looking at Freema blankly. She began to rock back and forth and said again, “He won’t wake up.”

Freema ran to the king, shouting “Highness, Golnar you must come at once!” Golnar came back out as Freema reached them. “It’s Miran, he is unconscious. Laleh is with him. She is… not right in her mind.”

A new fear stabbed their hearts as they ran. When Golnar saw Laleh she whispered to them “Do not raise your voices, we must coax her away from the bed. Treat her as a child.”

Jasmina came forward “Lelah, Miran is ill, the doctor comes. Will you sit next to the bed instead?” She took Laleh’s hand and gently guided her away into a chair. She didn’t speak again, only gazed vacantly into the distance, Jasmina standing close by to keep watch over her.

Tus held Kyrah’s hand tightly in dread and looked at Lelah with horror. “Someone, search her rooms. Golnar, is he…?”

“Highness, he has been drugged as well, a larger dose, his breathing is shallow, heartbeat weak. But if it is the same poison as Ronaq the antidote should work” and she left quickly to get it.

Jasmina saw blue and silver cloth laying on the floor and cried “Aryana! Aryana was here with him!”

The others froze for a moment in shock which quickly led to chaos as Aryana’s rooms, then the entire palace was searched to no avail. With stony hearts, they reassembled in Miran’s room waiting, hoping, for him to wake.

“Why would they take Aryana?” Kyrah voiced what they were all thinking.

Freema, who had searched Laleh’s room returned carrying a book and handed a stoppered bottle to Golnar who examined it. “It is syrup of poppy” she said grimly.

“I only had a chance to glance at this” Freema said as she held the book out to the king. “She has written an account of her life with Miran in it. A total and complete fantasy. Aryana was a threat to the lie she was living.”

Miran began to stir then, retching and they helped him to sit and expel the poison from his body.

Laleh stood suddenly and cried, “Miran!” trying to reach him.

Tus told the guards holding her back “Take her out of my sight!” She was dragged from the room screaming. “If Aryana is a threat why didn’t they kill her here? There is more to be discovered. Assemble the household, question everyone. I will go speak with Ronaq now. I pray to the Gods Aryana is with Nareen and they find them both soon.”

\---

The searchers had found the traces of the kidnappers heading straight toward the lands of her brother, King Orang, and were relatively certain they were on the right track. The princes were three hours underway when the messenger caught up with them. He handed over the scroll with a grim face knowing some of what it contained.

Garsiv read it and swore savagely “They took Aryana as well. It was Laleh who let them in” he said looking at Taimur, who blanched. “Taimur, the king wants you back to help deal with her, she is no longer of right mind. By the Gods how could we have let such a menace into our home?”

“But why father” asked Taimur his voice weak with shock.

“It does not say, maybe they don’t even know. Miran was drugged as well but both he and Ronaq will recover. We are instructed to continue with our quest for Nareen, hoping that Aryana is with her.”

So Taimur left them with a troubled heart to return to the palace. When he arrived Freema was waiting for him and told what they had discovered as they walked. “Her obsession with Miran is fanatical.” She stopped him and took his face in her hands, “It is not your fault, it is not Miran’s fault. I have read pieces of the book she kept. When Aryana arrived, she began to spiral into true madness.”

Freema was not a demonstrative person, she expressed emotion through her music. It had taken many years of their marriage to realize that she was in love with her husband and in this terrible crisis Freema found she wanted to protect him, she would do anything to protect him. He would take this failing, as he would surely see it, to heart. _What if it damaged him beyond repair?_

“How could we not have seen? How could I not have seen?” his voice full of anguish and she didn’t know how to comfort him.

Freema took him to Miran’s room. He was sleeping normally after the violence of purging the drug out of his body and his parents sat beside him. “Taimur, such a terrible cataclysm to befall us. Do you need a short rest or may we talk?” Taimur sat with Freema standing behind him, hand on his shoulder. “Tell me first of the pursuit.”

“We have found their trail. My father thinks we are less than a day behind them.” After a short pause, “Where is Laleh?

“Locked up in an empty room. We think she may try to harm herself. She comes in and out of self-awareness but she won’t talk to us. Will you tell what you know of her?”

Freema squeezed his shoulder in support. “I am ashamed to admit, very little. When father and I went to her city to arrange the marriage she was pleasant, not at all like she is now. We wed but she was not ready to consummate the marriage and asked for my understanding. As time went on I tried but could not reach her. Finally after six months I asked her bluntly if she was unhappy with me and offered her an annulment. I saw real emotion from her then. She was sorry, she said, not to be a true wife but insisted she was happy in our marriage. She begged me not to send her back to her father. I didn’t push her as I should have done to get to the root the problem.”

Kyrah said “Her inability to be a true wife could have many causes.”

“You do not know, but your grandfather had a second wife” Tus told them. “She suffered from a deep melancholia and even though help was given, she took her own life when I was a boy. Afflictions of the mind are pernicious. And Laleh showed no outward signs, always so quiet and composed. How were we to know she lived another life in her imagination?”

“I have been reading her book, it began soon after you married her” Freema said.

Taimur couldn’t help asking “In her delusion did they… ?”

“No, she proudly writes of it being a marriage of the mind and soul.”

As they talked, Miran woke and listened, a dread growing in his mind. “Father, what has happened?” his voice ragged.

The king looked at him with grief and pity and for a moment could not bring himself to say what must be said. “Miran, you have been drugged and are still weak. You should feel stronger in a few hours. As to what has happened, I will tell you from the beginning, but try to remain calm.”

When Miran heard of Ronaq and Nareen he sat up to leave the bed but soon was too light-headed to move. “The others have gone after her, they should catch up within a day. Ronaq has recovered from the poison, but the wounds to his shoulder are serious. Golnar assures us he will heal, but he must remain still for some days.”

He paused, “It was Lelah who drugged you and let the kidnappers in. She has a deranged obsession with you.” Tus’ voice faded, he didn’t know how to go on.

Miran looked in horror at Taimur “I am so sorry, I never… I didn’t realize…”

“I know” Taimur assured him. “She did this to you because of Aryana…”

Miran’s face went white, he began shaking.

His mother gripped his arm tightly “Listen to me Miran, Aryana is not dead, but she has been taken.”

Tus found his voice again “We hope she is with Nareen, but if not we need more information. Miran, I fear you are the only one Lelah will tell. But first, your body needs time to recover.”

Miran nodded, trying to keep his overwhelming panic at bay. Trying not to imagine what could be happening to her. It would be the longest, most hellish night of his life.

\---

Freema and Taimur returned to their rooms not speaking. Food waited, but he did not eat, only sat and brooded.

“If you won’t eat, try to sleep, you must be exhausted” Freema urged him.

“Will you sing me a lullaby?” he sneered sarcastically and immediately felt guilty for lashing out at her. “I’m sorry, I am not myself.” And he wasn’t himself. Taimur was gentle, he was kind, always thinking of others before himself. Freema decided to try and drag him out of his morose thoughts.

“If you won’t eat or sleep, I have confessions of my own to make, my deepest darkest secrets. We might as well get it all over with in one night of agony.”

He raised wary eyes to hers. “Yes, you should be worried” Freema warned him as she took a deep breath. “I’m glad that bitch is out of our lives at last. I discovered too late that I didn’t want you to marry her or anyone else for that matter.” Her voice was hard.

“You did not say anything at the time” Taimur reminded her defensively.

“No. I was sure my selfish jealousy would not influence your decision. Your first loyalty is to the King, then your father, then your brothers and the other princes, then me. I thought you would do what they wanted. It was perhaps presumptive of me.”

“Yes it was” he ground out, angry with her and Freema was glad to see it.

She nodded. “I should have tried to tell you how I felt even if it led to unpleasant confrontations. But I didn’t want to be proved right. It was cowardly.”

“So what are your true feelings then?” he snarled, not really expecting an answer.

But she looked steadily into his eyes, hiding nothing from him. “Possessive, needy, passionate, devoted, protective... I love you Taimur. Not because you are my husband. Not because you are the father of my children. You. And I deeply regret not telling you explicitly before now.”

He was speechless. He knew Freema did not marry him because she wanted him, he was a means to an end or so he thought. Taimur stared at her, stunned, seeing her as if for the first time.

“I hated Laleh, what she was did to you, every time you went to her you came back to me despondent and diminished. I was glad she didn’t want you, but you took the responsibility for her coldness on yourself, like you always do.” It was an accusation and her voice grew stronger in her agitation.  “And now after everything she has done, you still blame yourself. I refuse to let her damage you any further, I forbid it!” Freema voice cracked, her composure broken.

Taimur stood and held her, not knowing what to think, what to do. Freema could not think herself anymore, she only knew she wanted to wipe everything from his mind, to give him some peace. She drove her fingers into his hair and kissed him with longing and desperation, afraid still she might lose him. She pulled at his clothing and he at hers until they were naked and fell on the bed together. He was unbearably hard and she straddled him, taking him completely with a single thrust and rode him wildly. Taimur cupped her breasts that bounced deliciously with every buck of her hips and she arched her back grinding herself onto him as rapture took her. He pulled her down against his chest, groaning as he pounded his last thrusts into her, hearing her whisper words of love for him, spilling into her in waves again and again. Holding her close, still deep inside her, they slept.

When he woke hours later, Taimur felt cleansed of his guilt, healed. A night of agony she had said. The agony of bliss. Smiling, he sat up still holding her tightly to him and took her mouth muttering “I’m still hungry.” Freema felt him growing hard against her belly and sighed in pleasure. Their lovemaking was slow and soft, kissing deeply, sharing a long, sweet climax together.

Enjoying the aftermath, Taimur lazily began to suck on her earlobe. “You will eat now” Freema laughed, pulling herself away.

“Can’t I devour you instead?” he suggested with a wicked smile.

Freema brought the food to bed so he wouldn’t have to get up. He was famished and soon all was eaten and he felt replete, leaning back on the cushions, looking at his wife, eyes clear of pain and worry, full of tenderness. “I feel like you have saved me” he admitted.

“Perhaps a bit dramatic but I’m glad.”

“The moment I knew I loved you was as you sang at our wedding banquet. It was a romantic ballad and you looked deeply into my eyes, it felt like you were seeing into my very soul.”

“I remember. A gallant stranger that was now my husband and to my surprise I was not afraid, I looked forward to our life together.”

“I like to think we made the children that night.”

“Me too” Freema smiled at the memory, but her face grew somber, “I did not realize my confession would bring the same feelings of closeness I experience as when we make love. Have I impoverished years of our marriage?”

“No” he assured her. “We are on a long journey together, there is still far to go.”

\---

Early the next morning, his mother was alone with a desperate and agitated Miran when King Tus came in. “We have some information at last. Ten days ago a palace servant saw Laleh in the winter pavilion talking with Prince Kallias. She is sure it was him because she saw to his chamber while he was here.”

_Prince Kallias? Did he want Aryana for his own?_ And then Miran remembered the scrolls he had seen in his room. “Father, I think his purpose has to do with Alamut.”

“Dear Gods” the king whispered.

“Aryana confirmed they guard something there, but not what it is. He either wants information from her or access to whatever it is.”

“That means she is not with Nareen, we must send another search party.”

“I am going.”

“Yes, and I will go with you. You need to speak to Laleh first, see if she will tell us anything useful. I will go wake Taimur.”

Miran found getting out of bed made his head swim. “Come my child” Kyrah teased her son gently, “I will help you bathe and dress.”

They met outside the chamber where Laleh was being kept and told Taimur that Aryana was most likely taken away by Prince Kallias, that their questions would be about him.

“We saw tracks where a cart separated from the horsemen. We chose to follow the main trail  because it led in the right direction. That must have been where they parted, Nareen to the south, Aryana to the north. The spot is two hours ride from the city gate.”

“I’m relieved we have a place to start at least.” Miran looked with distaste at the door, hoping he could control his fury, to get the answers they needed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Freema took his arm “Miran before you go in, I am fairly certain you are not the man she is obsessed with, but only an image she built the fantasy around. Perhaps if you are impassive and let her see what she wants to see. And in her book, the man uses endearments like ‘sweet’ and ‘dear one’.” Miran smiled grimly, thanking Freema for the useful insights.

When Taimur, Miran and the king entered, Laleh was gazing out the window, but turned blank eyes on them. “Hello dear one” Miran said and she blinked and smiled at him.

“Miran, I’m so glad you are home at last, I missed you” and he forced himself to allow her to embrace him.

Taimur asked casually “We were wondering when you became acquainted with Prince Kallias.”

“Prince Kallias? Don’t you remember Miran?” she asked with a puzzled frown.

“Not really, sweet” he answered with a hollow laugh.

She shrugged “It was the night I found Aryana skulking in our chamber, brazenly invading our privacy. Prince Kallias heard us talking in the garden, sick at heart that you were so cruelly trapped, compelled to go live with her in Alamut. He was sympathetic and said perhaps he could help us. He was arranging to help Nareen return home, which she dearly wanted, and she would be glad to take Aryana with her. If we helped him. You are so noble my love, you could not defy your father so I did as Prince Kallias instructed for your sake.”

“Oh yes that’s right” Miran said lightly. “But I still can’t recall the details. What was it he wanted us to do?”

“He gave us a bottle of fortifying elixir and said we should put it in our wine and Nareen’s to give us strength for what was to come and to open the secret door in the orchard. He asked if there was a safe way out of the palace for Nareen to meet her brother so I told him about it.”

“Did you use my key Laleh?” Taimur asked, his voice deadly quiet.

At her nod, Miran got up and walked out. “Miran?” Laleh asked, confused, then a desperate “Miran!” They closed the door, hearing her call his name, sobbing.

King Tus said grimly “I doubt he is really Prince Kallias, he must have been spying for Orang. Having his own agenda he took Aryana for himself. Very neat, using two deranged pawns who were ready to be manipulated. He is most likely working unaided, we don’t need a force of men with us. We three shall go alone.”


	11. Invictus

Aryana drifted back into consciousness. The last thing she remembered was bathing with Miran watching him tenderly wash away the signs of their lovemaking from her body and tucking her back into bed, eating a meal together, sharing the wine, wanting to make love again. And then… nothing.

She heard something and forced her eyes open to see a man approaching. She tried to free herself from the ropes that bound her but didn’t have the strength. She felt sick and dizzy and when she tried to sit up, blackness washed over her again.

When she came back to herself it was in a dream. A man demanding answers, a young face that turned old before her eyes, bald, a neat beard and dark sinister eyes. “Aryana, tell me what lies hidden in Alamut.”

A young girl appeared then and spoke to her with the voice of an old woman “Fear not child of destiny, the chaos is not real, it is an evil trick. You have the power within you to control it. Do what must be done.”

For a blinding moment total clarity came to her. She lay on a bed, hands bound to it above her head but her feet were not tied. A man sat on a chair, not looking at her, asking her the same questions over and over.

“What are the Sands of Time, where is the sandglass, can the power be controlled.” It was Prince Kallias.

Aryana knew she had to act before the drug or whatever it was took ahold of her again. The headboard securing her tied hands felt yielding because of her struggles during the delirium, she pulled on it purposefully until she could feel it almost give way. She swung her legs over her head to the wall and pushed with all her might. The bed cracked, broke, and she was free.

Aryana launched herself at Kallias before he had time to react, both of them falling over backward. He was hampered by the chair and her on top of him, trying to push her off to crawl away. Aryana leapt on his back with her legs clenched around his waist and strangled him with the rope binding her hands. He stood, twisting and flailing to throw her off, but gradually got weaker and weaker, finally collapsing on the ground. Aryana looked down at him, too spent to feel anything. Not relief, nor triumph, nor remorse.

_Do what must be done,_ the first Guardian had told her. Aryana found a knife on the table and stabbed him through the heart. She felt exhaustion weaken her limbs and the drug beginning to cloud her mind again. Aryana staggered out of the room looking for a way out. But in the corridor she collapsed against a wall and fell into the nightmare again.

\---

At dawn the next day, Garsiv and the princes crested a hill and saw Nareen’s abductors below them, 50 men and one small figure wrapped in a sheet. As the princes led their men swiftly down the hill, the kidnappers realized they were under attack and seeing they had the greater numbers, rode back to meet them. The princes and their men halted on higher ground and sent volley after volley of arrows into the advancing cavalry cutting their numbers to 30. When the abductors came close enough, the royal company charged down on them, splitting the group in half, picking them off one by one.

Only ten were left standing and they tried to run but the rescuers circled the enemy, drawing ever inward until the few remaining kidnappers were bunched into a group around Nareen. The princes and their men halted as one and Garsiv said “If you want to live, drop your arms and let her go.” Which they did.

In fatigue and relief Nareen clutched at Garsiv’s horse and he quickly dismounted to aid her. “Ronaq? Aryana?” she asked weakly.

Garsiv put his cloak over her shoulders and led her to a rock to sit, handing her water. “Ronaq was drugged and badly injured in the shoulder but will recover. We hoped Aryana would be with you.”

Nareen shook her head sadly, “Outside the palace wall they put me in a covered cart and Aryana was already there. I couldn’t understand it. She was deeply asleep, drugged I suppose because I couldn’t wake her. After a few hours, it was still dark, they took me out and put me on a horse.”

“The baby. Are you feeling alright, no pain?” asked Shahzore.

“We are fine I think, just tired and thirsty.”

“Father!” Baaz cried out. In the distance they could see the dust and banners of an approaching army.

“He is indeed mad to bring his army into Persian territory” Garsiv scowled. “Baaz, you and Varten take the men and a banner of parley to that hill between us and see what you can find out.” He addressed the prisoners bound at his feet. “If you tell what you know of the other woman who was taken, I will release you to your king.”

One of the prisoners spoke “We were to told to hand over the wagon to a man who would be waiting for us. I didn’t know him. The place we gave her up was not far from Nasaf, a few hours.” The man paused, resigned “If we return to the king, he will kill us for failing him. You have the right to kill us for invading your home. Our lives are forfeit either way.”

“Prisoners are an inconvenient burden. Nareen, these are your people, what should be done with them?”

She was surprised to be asked to decide their fate but chose quickly. “The are under the command of a tyrant and they treated me as well as they could on the journey. Let them go to find their own way home.”

“Untie them then and return their horses. Now get out of my sight.”

“Thank you Highness” the men bowed to Nareen. “We would gladly serve you if we could.”

After an hour the younger princes returned “It is her brother as you thought Father, he demands to see Princess Nareen” Baaz reported.

“Out of the question” Garsiv snarled. “Hesam and our army will be here in less than a day, what is the best way to stall him and get Nareen safely away?” Which started a discussion among them as to the best course of action.

She did not want a battle, all those deaths because of her. Aryana’s exercises had given Nareen a certain objectivity as she confronted her traumatic memories, and she could see her brother now for what he was. Unstable, weak, a coward.

“Let me see him” Nareen said quietly and the men stopped talking. She looked Garsiv in the eye “I want to try and break him.”

_The criminal needed to be neutralized somehow and killing him would be risky and the absolute last option._ Garsiv nodded his permission.

Shahzore was sent to arrange the meeting while they prepared the stage. “Our father cowed him with silent disapproval, it will be effective if you all stand behind me passing judgement on him.”  She looked down at the huge cloak and trousers Garsiv had given her to wear and sighed, “I look like a little girl dressed in her father’s clothes. I need to appear more powerful.”

“Breastplate?” asked Garsiv.

“We don’t have any with us that would fit her” Baaz reminded him.

“Make a note. Always bring armour for the whole family” grumbled Garsiv. “Wait, he has not seen you since you were 16? You should show him that you are a woman now, that will unsettle him.”

“Here” said Varten and he got a red linen tunic from his saddlebag and gave it to her. “Baaz, your belt and sword.” Nareen removed the cumbersome outer garments and put the tunic on over the long night shift she wore. It came to her thighs, the open neck ending between her breasts. Varten wrapped the belt around her waist twice, sword hanging in its proper place.

“Unbraid your hair” suggested Garsiv. “And keep this knife behind your back, just in case” handing her a throwing blade. The men surveyed Nareen “You look like a barbarian queen” Garsiv told her, smiling. Then his face became grim “No mercy.” Nareen nodded her understanding.

She gave them all a steady look. “What you hear will not be pleasant.” And she straighten her back and turned toward her brother’s army, one hand on her hip to imitate causal confidence and the other behind her back holding the knife in a tense fist.

She was afraid to face him but when her brother came with his vizier and general, Nareen felt relief. He was shorter than she remembered and slight of build, a weakling compared to the men she had become accustomed to. Her smile of derision was not feigned.

“Brother, I am glad to see you have the backbone to answer in person for your crime.”

He had a smug smile on his face, he had his army behind him giving him the undeniable advantage. He would demand her in exchange for the Persian’s safe passage. But at her words his smile froze.

He looked at the princes standing silent behind her “Who will be negotiating your surrender?” he asked arrogantly.

But Nareen answered. “The Princes are here to pass judgement on you, to determine whether you are worth killing.” The vizier and general looked at each other, they both thought the same thing, _here was a chance to get rid of him._

Orang looked at her in confusion, this beautiful but unyielding woman, and began to lose his composure. “You can’t threaten me, I am a king!” he yelled shrilly.

“Do you feel like a king?” she asked with a scornful laugh. “Do you think of our father as you sit on his throne, feeling like a little boy, inadequate and the failure he always thought you?”

“Nareen,” he whined, “I have come for you. Your own husband isn’t even here to claim you.”

“No my husband is not here. He sent his family to come get me. Do you want to know why? I am carrying his child.” Her brother gasped in horrified shock. “I know he values the child more than me. But I love him, Orang.”  

“You can’t, you can’t!” he cried.

Nareen went on ruthlessly. “Do you see these men, the Princes of Persia?” gesturing toward them. “They are heroes, every one. They are Gods compared to you and my husband is just the same” her voice was hard, uncompromising. “My husband gives me such pleasure when he fills me with his strength. He is everything to me. I worship him with my body and my soul. I remember your pitiful little prick, going soft if I looked you in the face so that you had to violate me from behind to not see my disgust.” And she laughed, mocking him.  

“Nareen stop” he was whimpering now, “Stop, stop…”

She took a few steps towards him and was gratified to see him retreat from her. “And our child, it would never have survived, not with you as it’s father. It was malformed, did you know? A monster. It was you, Orang.  And I thank the Gods every day I was not stuck with it!” she spat, bile rising to her throat with the lie she told.

“Stop!” he screamed, hands to his ears to shut out her words, eyes closed to block the look of revulsion on her face. He turned and blindly ran away. The vizier and general bowed to Nareen without a word and left after him.

Nareen collapsed on a rock, head in her arms, sobbing and the princes came to stand and kneel around her, a hand on her shoulder, her knee, holding her hand, offering comfort. They could still hear him screaming in the distance.

She leaned back, exhausted, and looked at them wanting to find the strength to speak. “What you told him about your lost child, we know it isn’t true.” Shahzore said gently and she nodded in gratitude.

Not long after they heard trumpets and saw Orang’s army withdrawing. Garsiv nodded in satisfaction. “You will eat something, for the baby,” Garsiv told her, his voice soft, forestalling any protest “and rest before we begin the journey home. One of us will stay with you at all times.” He paused looking for the right words. “I have never before witnessed such raw courage and fortitude Nareen” giving her hand a squeeze.

\---

Miran, Taimur and the king easily found the cart tracks and had been riding hard for several hours, but they needed to walk the horses during the heat of the day. After a time, Tus looked grimly at his son and nephew. “I fear I know where we are going. There is a small estate that was once owned by my Uncle Nizam.” Taimur was puzzled but Miran was shocked and cursed loudly. “We came there once before looking for his hassansins. Nizam’s evil has touched us again from his grave. But how and why I cannot see.”

They found the villa after dark, a small lonely farm that had clearly been abandoned for some time. Seeing no movement, they lit torches and cautiously entered. They heard a chilling cry and saw her crumpled form laying in a tight ball on the ground.

“Aryana!” Miran rushed to her but stopped himself from seizing her roughly in his overwhelming relief. Kneeling beside her, he touched her shoulder and hair but she didn’t respond. “Aryana?” he whispered, pulling her up gently and turning her so he could see her face. Aryana’s eyes were open but glassy, looking through him, and her strangely dilated eyes closed against the light of the torches. She didn’t react to his touch, so Miran carefully embraced her, whispering in her ear “Aryana, it’s Miran, I’m here with you, holding you. Come back to me, Aryana. Listen to my voice, feel my arms around you. Come back.”

Aryana began to whimper, “Miran? Where is Miran? Help me! I’m drowning in sand” she cried.

Miran looked at the others in anguish “We need to find out what happened to her, what ails her.” He picked her up and she didn’t struggle, carrying her into the closest room, the room where she had been kept. They saw Kallias’ body on the floor.

Taimur knelt by the body “He is stiff and cold, dead for several hours, strangled and stabbed through the heart.”

“She dispatched him efficiently, and while she was drugged.” Tus shook his head in amazement.

“Is there another place I can take her?” Miran asked, looking with distaste at the broken bed.

Taimur went through the house quickly. “This is the only bed. There is another room with his belongings.”

“Taimur, secure his body and collect everything you find to bring back with us. Alamut will want answers.” Tus brought light and moved the bedding onto the floor for her to lie down. Miran carefully examined Aryana, removing the bloody rope binding her, wincing when he saw the terrible bruises and rope burns on her wrists and hands.

“There is a sticky substance on her forearm. It could be flying ointment. Uncle Garsiv told me of it when he trained me in interrogation.”

“What is it?” asked the king.

“A combination of deadly nightshade and poppy. It induces delirium and hallucinations or a kind of waking dream. The victim can be very suggestable, manipulated into answering questions but the drug is unpredictable and dangerous. I’ve never used it. The effects could last for several days.” Miran looked down at her, wondering where she was in her mind but no longer worried for her life. “She will find daylight painful, we should travel back now while it is still dark.”

“What about tomorrow?”

Taimur had returned and said “The covered cart is still outside, we can take her back that way. Uncle, I have his belongings and have tied his body to a horse. We can leave when Aryana is able.”

“I will ride with her on my horse until morning, holding her seems to help.” All this time she lay quiet in Miran’s arms, but moaned and murmured now and then as if she were having a nightmare. At his words she opened her eyes, they were clear and focused.

“Miran, what has happened to me?” she whispered hoarsely.

Tus gave her water while Miran told her “A drug causing delirium, you will suffer it until we return to the palace but there is an antidote.”

“It was Kallias” she mumbled.

“We know. He is dead, you killed him.”

“The Gods gave me a moment of sanity to deal with him. Her eyes closed again “Miran I am falling into the dream again” she whimpered.

“Hold onto me and try to remember I am real.” he said softly against her cheek.

Miran cleaned her arm of the ointment, washed the blood off her hands and bandaged her wrists. She did not seem to notice, even though it must have hurt. They rode away, Taimur driving the cart, Aryana riding in front of Miran, a dead weight leaning against him. But he spoke to her, hoping that his voice would bring her comfort at least and perhaps keep the nightmares at bay. She was quiet and seemed to be sleeping, but he could see her eyes were still wide open.

After a time, when the moon was high, Aryana straightened and looked up. They were passing a large rocky outcrop, Miran could hear animal night noises and thought she listened as well.

“Stop” she whispered.

“Aryana?” They all halted, wondering what was wrong.

“Shhh.” She raised her arm at a right angle, bent at the elbow. Silently a owl swooped down, its wing brushing Miran’s face with soft power, to land on her bandaged wrist. It was a huge bird, the colors of its feathers impossible to see in the moonlight, its eyes wide and black. Aryana whispered to the owl, “Fly with me!” and it lifted into the sky once more. The men did not speak, afraid to break the spell. Only when she closed her eyes did they dare to continue, not sure what they had just seen.  

Just before dawn they halted to eat a bit and rest. When Miran lifted her from the horse she calmly walked away, standing quietly facing east and they sat and watched her while they ate.

“I think she controls the dreams now, she’s using them to access her power.” Miran said softly.

“How is that possible? The owl…!” Taimur exclaimed quietly.

“She is a priestess of a holy city” Tus answered simply.

Aryana was lost in the colors of dawn, endless shades of blue, then pink, then yellow, the rising crescent of the sun itself. Miran and the others came to stand next to her. Eyes closed against the blinding light, Aryana could see it in her mind’s eye, a swirling inferno, eruptions of flame pouring into the night.

“It is a world of fire. No, a star!” she exclaimed.

\---

With the sun quickly rising, Miran took her to the cart. Taimur had put the mattress on the floor and although they couldn’t sit up, there was enough room for them to lay side by side. The cart was covered by a wooden lid and it was thankfully dark inside. It would be unpleasantly hot later in the day though Miran realized.

They rode for hours, the gentle sway of the cart often interrupted by a disturbing jolt when one of the wheels fell into a rut or hit a rock. Aryana and Miran lay facing each other but even though she was awake her eyes looked through him. Miran began to suffer with the heat and took off his clothes, wondering if he should remove the thin shift that she had worn to bed the night she was taken. It seemed so long ago, a lifetime of hellish worry. It was catching up to him now, and with the steady movement of the cart soothing him, he slept.

Miran was tormented by a nightmare of his own, all his fears of the terrible plight she suffered flashing through his mind. The unbearable panic, feeling helpless and desperate. He felt a hand on his cheek and in his dream turned to see Aryana’s sky blue eyes looking at him with tenderness and compassion. _Fear not for me, my love._ In the dream she held him and Miran realized it was real, she was there with him in his mind. He could feel her presence, embracing him with love. _You saved me from the chaos Miran, your arms holding me, your voice calling to me, you are my anchor. Now let me be yours. Wake up._

And he opened his eyes to see her smiling softly at him and reached out to touch her. When his hand swept over her cheek and around her neck, Aryana gasped softly and closed her eyes. _I can feel what you feel Miran_ she whispered in his mind. _Can I stay here with you? Will you touch me and let me experience what you feel when you love me?_

Miran thought _yes_ and saw her answering smile. It was strange, but at the same time completely natural, to be aware of her behind his own eyes. He drew her close and kissed her softly and she became a quiet presence, giving all her concentration to the duel sensations washing over her, conscious of herself being kissed and what Miran felt while kissing her. When passion took over, their tongues twining together, it became impossible to distinguish their emotions and she let the mingling seep into Miran’s mind as well. Miran let his hands roam her body and felt their love, their desire flowing back and forth, the same but different.

She forced their perception to part again. _More Miran, please more._ And if he groaned with need out loud or only in his thoughts, he couldn’t tell.

He ran his hand up her leg, pushing her shift up to her waist and kissed her belly, letting his mouth flow over her body and down to her inner thighs, his hand parting her legs so he could reach her wet heat. He did all his favorite things to her, understanding Aryana wanted to know, to feel it for herself. He let himself fall into mindless lust, his mouth on her, fingers pumping into her mimicking the act of love, his senses overtaken by her scent and her taste. Again Aryana began to lose control as she came close to the edge, their awareness blending together as she fell, letting Miran feel her climax with her. And it was powerful and wonderful and sweet, almost too sweet to bear.  

Miran wondered if he had come undone as well, but looking down at himself was surprised he was still hard and craving. Shifting his body, he raised himself by his elbows to look down at her. _I need you, I need you inside me_ and he saw and felt her wanton desire, that she didn’t want gentleness.

He rubbed himself against her wet center, gathering moisture, and plunged deep. Fast and hard, his face buried in her neck, panting, the inexorable drive taking him over. _Yes Miran, take me. When you let go I will follow._ He drove into her, out of control, feeling her legs wrapped around his hips and her hands gripping his back, urging him on. And when it hit him, her pleasure as well as his own exploded behind his eyes.  

\---

The rescue party waited for the King’s army to meet them, giving Nareen a chance to rest and it was decided that she would be escorted home by Prince Hesam with the army as it returned slowly north again. Garsiv was worried about Aryana and was resolved to follow after her as quickly as possible with the princes and a large company of men. They made good time on the return journey and easily found the place where the trail split. They had ridden for a further day, when to their relief saw Tus and Taimur in the distance and sounded a horn in greeting.

In the cart, Aryana was holding a dozing Miran in her arms. “Uncle Garsiv is coming with Baaz and your brothers.” She whispered, waking him. But after a few moments she became agitated. “Miran, there are too many of them… they interfere with my sight…”

Miran kissed her softly and dressed, leaving her to greet them, hoping they had good news about Nareen. But he first went to Tus. “Father, send the men back, they can take the body and report to Hesam. They disturb Aryana.”

It was late afternoon and they found themselves at a pleasant spot by a river so they rested there, talking over the last few days, everyone extremely relieved Nareen and Aryana were safe.

“What did he do to her?” Garsiv asked, concerned.

Miran only needed to answer “Flying ointment” for him to understand. But he explained to the others, ending with “the drug has allowed her to… to travel with her conscious mind, to join with the minds of other creatures.” He did not elaborate, not wanting to tell them of the breathtaking experience he had shared with her. It was too profound and intimate.

Tus told them what they had learned of Laleh and Kallias. “It is imperative we find the connection between this man and Nizam. What he discovered and how he knew anything at all.”

Aryana emerged from the cart then, the otherworldly aura lying over her like a cloak. She watched the sunset turning to twilight without acknowledging the newcomers, but later came to them, grasping her uncle’s hand.

“Nareen was magnificent” she said to him before her eyes became unfocussed again, her mind elsewhere, and she turned to the riverbank.

“What did she mean?” asked Tus.

Garsiv was unsettled by Aryana, understanding then what Miran had meant by a waking dream. He had not told them yet of Nareen’s ordeal. He found it hard to speak of it, but tried to find the right words. “Nareen … she told us Aryana helped her see her brother for what he truly was. She used her knowledge to destroy him utterly. He ran from her words screaming. She was so brave. And so terrible in her resolve.”

“It was breathtaking to witness and horrible to hear the depth of her ordeal. The monster deserved to be cut down by her hand alone” added Shahzore.

They all watched Aryana as they talked, waiting for her to tell them when they could continue. Even the others who had not been with them long could feel the anticipation. Taimur inhaled a sharp breath. Emerging from a dense thicket, a lioness moved toward her. Miran quickly held out a hand warning them not to interfere. A few feet from Aryana the lion sat and casually licked a paw.

“Uncle Garsiv” Aryana called quietly and he started in surprise. She gestured for him to come closer. “You saved a young lion once.”

His eyes grew wide, moving from Aryana to the lion. “Is she...?”

“Yes. Sit quietly before her, hold out your hand.”

The lion came to him, sniffed his hand and brought her face to his, letting out a warm, moist puff of air before she bumped his chin with the top of her head, asking for a caress. Garsiv brushed along her cheek down along her flank, feeling her coarse fur, her heartbeat and her deep rumble of contentment. She flopped down on her back at his feet and let him rub her belly and he laughed when she became playful, gently batting at his hand with her paw. She rolled over to chew softly on his boot when, in the distance, they could hear her family calling to her. The lioness gave him a last snuffle in his neck with her nose and turned to walk away.

“Wonder upon wonder” said Tus quietly.

Aryana took an awestruck Garsiv by the hand, smiling up at him. “Let us go home.”


	12. Stories and Secrets

They arrived at the palace early the next morning and led Aryana quietly to Miran’s chamber. The family had been warned of her condition and stood quietly to welcome them home. She did not seem so lost in her own world anymore,smiling when she saw them, but only stopped to briefly hug Nareen.

“Phoenix” Aryana said to her. And all her admiration, respect and understanding was in that word. Nareen straightened unconsciously and felt for the first time pride in herself and what she had done.

Golnar came to examine Aryana who looked back at her calmly. “You were right in your deduction that it is flying ointment. The effects have almost worn off, the antidote is not really necessary. She only needs sleep."

After changing the bandages on her wrists, Golnar stood to go and Aryana suddenly cried “Wait!” Aryana put her hands on Golnar’s belly and laid her cheek gently against her. “Safan is that you?”

Golnar’s mouth opened in shock. She had chosen the name Safan if her child would be a boy but had not told anyone. It was the name of her younger brother, her only full sibling of her mother and father, who had died of a fever when he was six.

“He has been waiting patiently but would like to meet you now.” Aryana looked up at Golnar “Are you ready?”

Golnar nodded hesitantly and then cried out, a contraction hitting her hard, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Shahzore swore and rushed to her side, Arsia right behind him to help support her, guiding her from the room to the birthing chamber. The others shook their heads, smiling and came to Aryana and Miran, with a kiss or a caress, silently telling them how glad they were that she was alright before they left one by one.

Aryana looked at her uncles who were the last to leave “I am fine, our wedding will go ahead as we planned. Yes?” and they smiled reassuringly at her and Miran, knowing after such a trial they were already husband and wife.

\---

When Dastan and Tamina arrived Aryana was still asleep. Miran began to carefully tell them what had happened, quick to reassure them that she was alright, but was surprised when Tamina gave him a sudden hug.

“We know what happened. She came to me. I didn’t understand at first, but with her patience, we were able to communicate. It was… a very curious experience.”

So they spent the day with Miran watching Aryana sleep. Amar, Seso and Bis came in briefly to check on her but Dastan felt their discomfort imposing on a sensitive family moment so he suggested they go visit the ostriches until Aryana was well enough for visitors. Tus and Garsiv joined them to tell their own tales and gave Tamina the scrolls and other belongings of Kallias. It didn’t take them long to find the answers they sought. It was in a letter Nizam had written to a woman, his mistress apparently, where he made vague reference to Alamut and a mystical power hidden there. He claimed it would change their lives forever, that he wouldn’t forget her. He also asked about his daughter and her baby son.

“I will have to send Zolm to search his home for other dangerous momentos” Tamina said grimly.

“Zolm… ” groaned Miran. “He will never forgive me for losing her.”

“He has also experienced betrayal by those he thought he could trust. Some evils can not be foreseen” Tamina said cryptically. “And if he is difficult, I will remind him” making Dastan snort.

\---

When Aryana finally woke up, serene and hungry, they could all finally relax. There was a lot to discuss, not only what happened to her and Nareen and why, but Aryana first needed a long talk alone with her mother about what she had experienced due to the flying ointment.

“It was extraordinary, but I would had gone mad if not for Miran, he tethered me to reality. I remember all of it so clearly, incredible the things I saw and felt. But I remember the chaotic nightmares as well.”

Aryana paused, trying to express a thought before it was fully formed. “I feel more at peace with the burden placed on me now. The Gods need us and the first guardian came when I needed her. I am more relieved than I can say that I did not fail them.”

Tamina hugged her close “I am very proud of you, but I never doubted you would be able to meet any challenge life, or the Gods, gave you.”

Other conversations with the four of them often came to a sudden halt when they touched upon Alamut’s mysteries, secrets that Miran didn’t yet know.

“Mother, we need to tell him.” Aryana turned to Miran in frustration. “It feels wrong to marry when you don’t know. Father had found out on his own and could choose freely.”

“Giving me a last chance to escape? Too late” he teased her.

Dastan said “We must get out of the palace for that kind of discussion.”

“We could go to the Ostrich Villa to bring Amer and Seso back and talk as we ride” Miran suggested.

When they were safely out in the open air, Aryana began “This will all sound fantastical, try not to interrupt.” And Marin listened as Tamina told of the Sands of Time and the first Guardian. As they rested during the midday heat Dastan told his story. And they took turns with the aftermath, most of which Aryana didn’t know either. Dastan’s determined pursuit of Tamina, the bittersweet torment of loving her when she remembered nothing. The continuing threat of the hassansins even though their master Nizam was dead, because Tamina had discovered in the other time that at least one of them used to be a guardian.

“There were two actually who had followed a senior priest in a bid for power. I became High Priestess when my mother died. I was 12 years old and he first tried to gain control by claiming I was too young to rule. He tried to become the Regent but the council wisely chose my father instead. Then he and the other two tried to murder my father. Their guilt was obvious, but they escaped before the execution. It took me a while to make the connection between those long ago events and the hassansins. I blame Dastan for clouding my mind with distracting emotion.” She gave him a small smile.

Dastan chuckled, but went on with the story. “I convinced your uncles to hunt the hassansins down but when we finally got to their lair, all but three were dead and I knew the rest must be going after the cursed sandglass again. It was a hellish ride back to Alamut” he shuddered, giving Miran’s shoulder a squeeze in solidarity. “What I didn’t know was there were two crazy death-cult zealots who had gotten rid of the others and Zolm. When we returned, too late of course, I found Tamina sitting _within reach_ next to Zolm’s sick bed and one of his blasted snakes sunning itself on the windowsill.”

“He was not happy to say the least” Tamina tried not to smile.

“Not. Happy. I had told her about our fight to the death with him in the sanglass chamber. But no. She decides to take care of him.”

“Which in retrospect, dear husband, was a wise decision” she reminded him. “To go back a bit, the two traitor priests had indeed come back to finish what Nizam had started and Zolm had followed to kill them in revenge for his comrades.” Tamina paused, looking for the right words to convey the turn in fate which had happened in the blink of an eye.

“I was held with a knife at my throat when he came. He was about to strike the one with the scorpion whip when he saw me … and just froze. He recognized me and I him. I felt the one holding me decide to end my life, the knife shifting to cut me and Zolm threw his blade to kill him instead, leaving himself open to attack by the scorpion. Zolm killed him in the end but was badly hurt. When I knelt by him to look at his wounds he said ' _When will your champion come to finish me? '_

“The Gods had let him see the lost time?” Aryana gasped.

“Yes. So I knew it was my duty to discover what they wanted from him.”

“We argued about her interpretation of events, but he woke up and sneered at me so…” Dastan shrugged.

“His recovery was long and painful, purging his body of the drugs the hassansins used almost killed him. But when they were gone, he became more human.”

“His personality didn’t improve though” Dastan butt in.

Tamina glared at him. “Zolm realized what the vision meant, that his destiny was calling him. I offered him a place with us and a new purpose which he grudgingly accepted.”

“I didn’t trust him until you were born Aryana, but he was surprisingly good with you.” He gave his wife a wry smile “I can admit now having him around is useful. Extra line of defense.”

“Father, you enjoy his company. I've heard you two throwing insults back and forth like you do with your brothers” Aryana teased.

Dastan snorted but didn’t contradict her.

After a moment Miran commented quietly “So the traitor guardians set this all in motion. But why?”

Tamina sighed “The one holding me would only say ' _We owe it to the Gods. You feel it too, how close we came to Grace.'_ I suppose they sought the purity of nihility. And I realized the ritualized self-sacrifice we practiced in Alamut led to this twisted abomination. We have learned from our mistakes.”

They reached the protected, green land on the outskirts of the villa and Aryana whispered to Miran. “Where is the lemon grove, my love? I hope you will bring me back there soon.”

He laughed softly, pointing it out to her in the distance. “We could come stay at the villa for a time after the wedding” he suggested. “After Sheik Amar goes home” he added dryly. “He is amusing company, but not conducive to romance.”

“Look under the tree there” Dastan said, drawing their attention. “I think that fine stallion is Aksh. He was let loose here to enjoy a well earned retirement.” He was pleased to see him and called, hoping the stubborn horse would come say hello.

Aksh turned his back on them. “Grumpy mule” he snorted.

“Aksh!” Tamina called and the horse’s ears pricked and he immediately turned to race toward them, halting by Tamina to give her neck a soft nuzzle.

Dastan shook his head whimsically. “I swear that horse remembers the lost time. He always liked you better.”

Miran patted Aksh on his flank and mused “Animals are innocent and above morality. Maybe they perceive the world as the Gods do.”

They all stared at him. Aryana with tenderness, Tamina with approval and Dastan with amusement.

“What?”

Dastan laughed “You'll fit in much better than I do.”

Tamina kissed her husband’s cheek fondly. “Even Zolm fits in better than you.”

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> And the kudos!  
> 


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